<£l)ap. 
STo. 







M UNITED STATES OF A.ME11ICA. 



HOURS OF MEDITATION 



33ebottonal defection, 



UPON VARIOUS SUBJECTS CONNECTED WITH THE 



RELIGIOUS, MORAL, AND SOCIAL DUTIES OF LIFE. 



BY HEINRICH ZSCHOKKE. 



SECOND EDITION, 



LONDON : 
CHAPMAN AND HALL, 186 STRAND.- 

MDCCCXLYII- 






LONDON: 
GEORGE BARCLAY, PRINTER, CASTLE STREET, LEICESTER SQUARE. 



?88 Library 
op Congress 

WASHINGTON 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 



The elevated character and rare merits of the 
original work entitled, " £>te Stunben bet %nbad)t" : 
from which this Selection has been made, are 
abundantly proved in the almost unparalleled 
admiration it has continued to enjoy since its 
first appearance, now nearly half a century ago, 
throughout the whole of the Germanic Em- 
pire, in Switzerland, and, in fact, wherever the 
German language is read. The subject-matter 
of these Meditations is of a nature the im- 
portance of which the mind of the reader will 
quickly recognise : the principles advanced and 
defended are referred to his experience for cor- 
roboration ; and the sentiments avowed appeal 

* In eight volumes, 8vo. 



vi TRANSLATORS PREFACE. 

with irresistible force to the most cherished feel- 
ings of the heart. 

The author of this work, a stranger to every sect 
or party, profoundly endowed with the know- 
ledge of mankind and of nature, has, in these 
Meditations, developed with simplicity and gran- 
deur the great truths of religion and morality; 
and, by the variety of his subjects, appropriate to 
the different sexes, ages, and conditions of life, 
has, in this work, made a forcible and extended 
application of these truths, and distinctly pointed 
out and defined the three-fold relation of man to 
God, the world, and himself. 

The laws of Christianity, and those promulgated 
to us in all Revelation, are but the expression, 
by the infinitely wise Creator, of certain truths of 
human nature. The perception and observance of 
these truths constitute, in their degree, the wisdom 
of the individual. The noblest achievement of 
Philosophy — which, properly interpreted, means 
the love of this wisdom — is the demonstration, 
development, and application of these divinely- 
revealed truths or laws to the changeful phases of 
human life, in all its variety of private, social, and 



TRANSLATORS PREFACE. YH 

public forms. That our truly philosophical 
author has actually effected this achievement is 
not to be affirmed; but that he has largely and 
successfully laboured to this end, the original 
eight volumes of these most interesting and 
instructive Meditations abundantly prove. 

Until very recently the name of the author of 
this truly national production was unknown ; but, 
at length, the venerated Zschokke, a man whose 
valuable works, in other fields of literature, have 
already conferred honour upon himself and 
country, has cast aside the veil of silence, and, 
to the gratification of thousands and tens of 
thousands of appreciating readers, proclaimed 
himself to be the writer. In conclusion, it may 
be added that, in gratitude for the immense benefits 
both Germany and Switzerland have derived from 
this noble work (which, having now reached its 
twenty-third edition, has circulated to an extent 
considerably beyond 200,000 copies), there is 
.about to be founded, by subscription, in a spot to 
be selected in either of those countries, an institu- 
tion which, in honour of the revered author, is to 



Vlll TRANSLATORS PREFACE. 

be entitled, " Zschokke's Foundation/' based 
upon the religious and moral results of his sublime 
work, «©ie ©tunben ber Slnbacbt" or, "Hours of 
Meditation. 55 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE, 



I have visited the palaces of the rich and great, 
the cottages of the poor and humble, the work- 
shop of the peaceful mechanic, and the barrack- 
room of the hardy soldier : I have everywhere 
met with minds disposed for religious exercises — 
I have everywhere found hearts anxious to be 
purified, and souls eager to be reconciled and 
united with God ; and, finally, I have observed 
the instinct of immortality prevail, the sense of not 
belonging to this earth alone, and the expectation 
of living in a future that awaits us, after the grand 
change we must undergo in the hour of death. 

-But, alas ! this desire and longing expressed by 
all these beings were only the desire and longing 
of the moment. The succeeding moment scattered 
all pious resolutions by the tumult and distraction 



X AUTHORS PREFACE. 

of business. Too often, men have appeared to 
me, not to bear within them the same heart when 
entering and kneeling at the altar of the temple 
of the Almighty, and when emerging from the 
sacred portals they have again returned into and 
mixed with the agitated sphere and scenes of 
ordinary life. 

I have everywhere found religion, but very 
rarely a heart constantly religious ; the fear of God, 
but rarely a love of God; pious resolutions, but 
rarely a pious life ; and people who publicly profess 
Christianity, but rarely disciples and followers of 
Christ. 

It is not without justice, that a thousand com- 
plaints are everywhere raised concerning the 
decline of the Christian religion ; they are, indeed, 
but too well founded. On the one hand, I behold 
only levity, mockery, self-love, and efforts which 
are made to render powerless the warning voice 
of the internal monitor, by cunning evasions, or to 
lose the sense of it in the lap of pleasure and 
frivolity ; and, on the other hand, I witness 
youths, men of mature age, and even men far 
advanced in years, tormented by cruel doubts 



AUTHORS PREFACE. XI 

upon the subject of God and eternity, of the 
future fate of their soul, and of their destiny on 
this and the other side of the grave. Alas ! a 
dreadful chain of public and private misery, a 
series of pains and calamities endured by numerous 
families, must inevitably result from a spirit thus 
deficient in religious character. 

Doubtless, the wars in which we have been 
forced to participate, the numerous writings dic- 
tated by a superficial or vain knowledge, and read 
by minds not less superficial or vain, have con- 
tributed to the decay of a religious spirit, and the 
ruin of public morality. But many other sources 
of our errors lie concealed from observation. I 
will not, however, permit myself to make ihem 
known; I wish not to wound or mortify the 
feelings of any one. I have another object in 
view, and one more noble and elevated ; and if 
I succeed in attaining it, even only partially, I 
shall one day close my eyes with delight and satis- 
faction, when summoned to quit this mortal life. 
The object I propose to myself, is — to propagate 
true Christianity by reanimating the zeal for internal 
and domestic devotion. 



Xll AUTHORS PREFACE. 

Nothing secures to the sentiments of piety a 
more lasting and durable sway; nothing more 
excites the heart to noble and Christian action; 
than converse with God in the hours of solitude, 
when the soul, disengaged from the cares and 
occupations of life, turns towards and approaches 
its celestial Father, in order to devote itself entirely 
to Him. Nothing can add so much to domestic 
happiness as these communings with God, in which 
a father and mother, in the bosom of their family, 
indulge, with those around them, in the contem- 
plation of God and His works, and the sacred inte- 
rests of their own souls ; of the truths and benefits 
of the religion of Christ, the eternal future, and, 
finally, of the hopes belonging to a spirit created 
for immortal life. At the conclusion of these 
affecting exercises, the calmness and serenity of 
peace communicate themselves to all the members 
of the family; a tear of emotion seals the bond of 
their hearts, and confirms their resolution to live 
religiously on earth, so that they may hereafter 
dwell eternally with God. 

Whoever has experienced such a state of com- 
fort, will know and feel the truth of what I have 



AUTHORS PREFACE. Xlll 

just described; and he who is ignorant of this 
happiness, and who seeks everywhere around 
the happiness after which he thirsts, ah ! why 
does he not aspire to this only happiness, which 
nothing can take from him, and the price of which 
calamity itself can only enhance ! 

It is to promote and multiply these scenes of 
devotional meditation and domestic happiness, 
that these Discourses are written and published. 

To you, young people of both sexes, who enter 
upon the world with a pleasure mixed with in- 
quietude, and who have not hitherto proved, by 
culpable negligence, unfaithful to your better self, 
I dedicate these meditations. May they inspire 
you with a noble moderation in the moment of 
pleasure, and a religious courage and resignation 
in the hour of trial ! 

I dedicate them to you also, husbands and wives, 
who walk together the path of life, who offer up in 
common your souls to God, and who bring up 
your children in Christian simplicity, so that you 
may be enabled to return to your Author the fruits 
of the cherished gifts you owe to His paternal 
goodness. 



XIV AUTHORS PREFACE. 

And, finally, I dedicate them to you, men of 
venerable age, and in the evening of your terres- 
trial pilgrimage ; whose looks, directed far beyond 
this world which perishes, are borne towards the 
Aurora of eternal life, in the celestial realms 
above. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT 1 

RECONCILIATION 19 

THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD . . . . 31 

THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION . . . .46 

DOMESTIC WORSHIP 61 

CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY .76 

THE ART OF BEING HAPPY 92 

FEMALE EDUCATION . 105 

decrease of domestic prosperity . " . . . . 121 

the religious wars . . 132 

social life 145 

a man's price 158 

circumspection in the choice of friends . , . . 171 

DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION 185 

NECESSARY FALSEHOODS 200 

THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE 213 



XVI CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

MARRIAGE . . . . . . . . . . 227 

THE PASSION FOR READING 247 

THE POWER OF TRUTH 259 

CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE . . . .274 

THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM . . . . . . 290 

THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY .... 307 

DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY 319 

THE TEST OF ADVERSITY 332 

THE END OF THE WORLD r 343 



ES5 .- ^ 



THE 






PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 



Ephesians v. 9. 1". 
M For the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness, and righteousness, and 

truth." M Wherefore be ye not unwise, but understanding v\ha; 

the will of the Lord is." 

There are many evils, the origin of which we 
often seek in the mind, whereas it ought rather to 
be sought in the heart. In fact, the dispositions of 
the heart often depend less upon the clearness or 
confusion of our ideas, than is believed. In many 
instances, baseness of character is found united 
with an enlightened understanding ; and distin- 
guished talents may be accompanied by low, 
vicious inclinations. How many men appear to 
have acquired a superiority of views, intelligence, 
and ability, only to give a brilliancy to their vices, 
or at least to defend them in a more dazzling 
and deceptive manner. On the other hand, 
we often find the low-born and ignorant man 



2 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

endued with true nobleness of heart, and com- 
bining a sincere and elevated piety with a very 
defective intellect. 

But this truth, confirmed by experience, does 
not by any means authorise us to condemn all 
progress of enlightenment as the cause of the 
corruption of mankind. No : often those who 
have effected the largest acquisitions of knowledge 
have been most remarkable for the virtue of their 
lives ; and we see every day in the ignorant and 
vulgar classes, vices of a base and revolting 
character. Hence it results that nobleness of 
character is not dependent on intellectual faculties 
and acquirements. 

At the present day, it is the fashion among 
certain classes to denounce whatever is termed 
"march of intellect." In distinguished circles, in 
respectable and well-meant writings, and some- 
times even in the pulpit itself, progress of intelli- 
gence is assailed as one of the principal vices of 
our day — the source of all the evils, public and 
private, under which society at present groans. 
They cite unceasingly the horrors with which 
ambition, cupidity, perversity, and spirit of riot 
overwhelmed an extensive kingdom for several 
years ; and they exclaim, " Behold the results of 
the vaunted progress of intelligence ! s ' They 
point also at the fall of empires once flourishing, 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 3 

but subsequently destroyed by foreign enemies; 
and they exclaim, " Behold the work of this 
boasted enlightenment!" They refer to the 
plains devastated by war, to the towns and villages 
reduced to ashes ; and they repeat, " All these 
evils are the dreadful effects of that enlightenment 
so much lauded ! " 

These bitter and exaggerated complaints more 
especially proceed from men whose advanced age 
permits them no longer to follow the march of the 
human mind : age and inactivity have rendered 
them incapable of making further progress them- 
selves, or of extending their acquirements in 
knowledge. They fancy the world approaching 
to ruin, because it is no longer as they beheld it 
in their youth. If they possessed the power, they 
would re-establish all that the irresistible move- 
ment of time has swept away; the narrow ideas 
that have now become enlarged, and the feeble 
arts that are now increased in power, and daily 
making fresh triumphs. 

But alas ! how blind are these self-opinionated 
men, who fancy themselves more capable of go- 
verning the world than the almighty and allwise 
God, the author of the very movement which 
they have the boldness to censure and condemn ! 
They would fain check in their course, and con- 
demn to immobility, the rapid wheels which bear 

b2 



4 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

our destinies along. They forget, however, that 
wars and revolutions have always existed, and 
that they are more frequent amongst ignorant and 
barbarous nations than amongst civilised and en- 
lightened people. They appear to forget that, in 
their youth, they themselves were unwilling to 
remain stationary, or to be satisfied with the 
knowledge, possessions, and condition of their 
ancestors. 

Nevertheless, it is true that they have often 
reason to condemn the progress of that sort of 
enlightenment which is not the true enlightenment. 
They are right in reference to that corruption 
which, under the deceptive name of " the march 
of intellect," removes all restraint from the passions 
of the multitude, and holds out impunity to 
injustice and debauchery. Their indignation was 
doubtless just and lawful, when daring boldness 
and arrogance overthrew temples, profaned altars, 
and refused to the throne its firmest support — the 
respect and love of the people. But what was 
the origin of these crimes ? Of what number and 
quality were those guilty of them ? Can we, in 
these excesses, recognise enlightenment ? What 
countless atrocities have been committed in the 
name of religion, both by individuals and by 
nations ! But who, for this reason, would venture 
or desire to declare himself an enemy to religion ? 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. O 

We are led by these reflections to an important 
subject of inquiry — namely, what kind and degree 
of influence enlightenment exerts upon the weal 
of men. But what are we to properly understand 
by the progress of enlightenment ? — We reply, 
that it consists in the advancement of reason, 
illumined by the torch of truth. 

How? Should I wish to condemn the light 
and truth which dissipates the darkness of the 
human mind? Has the wise Creator gifted me 
with reason only to leave it to slumber in the 
night of ignorance ? Ought I not to make the 
most of the talent He has confided to me ? Is not 
to follow and encourage the progress of intellect 
one of my most noble duties ? 

O ye, who have acquired, on a variety of 
subjects, more just and more enlightened ideas 
than many other men, which among you would 
consent to return to his former errors, to resume 
his early ignorance, and to yield afresh to the 
yoke of his former superstition ? — Scarcely one of 
the millions of your number would consent ! And 
if you find it beneficial and useful for yourselves 
to have cultivated your reason, increased your 
knowledge, and abjured ridiculous prejudices, 
why should you refuse to others the right of 
enlightening their mind by the light of truth? 
Why should you raise your voice against the 



6 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

glorious triumphs that have so powerfully con- 
tributed to your happiness ? By what right do 
you pretend that other classes of society should 
possess only a limited and fixed portion of intelli- 
gence^ whilst you claim peculiar privileges for 
your own favoured class? O ye senseless re- 
formers of the plans of Providence, know that 
God governs the world without regard to the 
hypocritical murmurs of your selfishness, or to 
the wishes of your blind pride. Like the sun, 
which never ceases to dispense over every one its 
genial rays, so also truth is and will eternally be 
a good, accessible and common to all minds. You 
may take life away from the body, but you cannot 
kill the soul. 

" Wherefore be ye not unwise, but under- 
derstanding what the will of the Lord is." The 
will of God is the happiness of all the spirits he 
has created ; but this happiness increases in pro- 
portion to the knowledge of truth. 

What was done by Jesus Christ, the Saviour of 
the human race? He found the world full of 
darkness : mankind being also in the shadow of 
death. He appeared like the sun of souls, and 
illumined mankind with his rays. He revealed 
to mortals truths which, until then, had not been 
announced to any one \ his doctrine was addressed 
to the understanding of the meanest classes of 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 7 

society — classes which, before he appeared, had 
been neglected by all philosophers and learned 
men, because it was deemed useless to instruct in 
the most elevated truths men destined to subjection 
and slavery. 

The doctrine and enlightenment which Jesus 
diffused, with, indeed, a more than human bold- 
ness and power, were also the occasion or pretext 
of violence, of insurrections, wars, and effusion 
of blood : individuals perished, vast empires dis- 
appeared; but the power of truth prevailed and 
triumphed. Thousands of families may descend 
into the tomb, and the thrones of the most power- 
ful kingdoms may be destroyed ; but truth, spread 
through the empire of the mind, remains for ever 
imperishable. 

This single fact suffices to show that, even 
upon this earth, the mind is the essential part of 
life, and that all terrestrial things are only the 
perishable clothing thereof. He who bequeaths 
to the world a new truth, exerts upon the genera- 
tions to come a nobler influence than the con- 
queror of extensive dominions. Every error, 
however, is transient ; and, sooner or later, it dies 
away, because God has only created the world for 
a perfection towards which man must gradually 
advance. All imperfection bears within it the 
principle of death; all that is true, good, and 



8 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

perfect, contains the germ of an eternal ex- 
istence. 

What benefit was there not produced by the 
labours of the disciples of Christ ! They spread 
themselves in all parts of the known world ; they 
instructed the people by their discourses, and pro- 
pagated, even amongst the most despised classes, 
the heavenly light of the truths they had received 
from their divine Master, Jesus. 

Far, therefore, from seeking to preserve amongst 
mankind the ignorance, prejudices, superstition, 
and false ideas that may prevail, I will, in the 
name of knowledge, and in the name of the Saviour 
whose disciple I am, raise my spirit to harmony 
with the progress and order of the whole creation, 
as established by God. I will make use of my 
faculties, and profit by my position, in order to 
enlighten the mind of man, and ennoble his soul. 
But an undertaking so important requires that 
circumspection which ought to guide the Christian 
in all his operations ; it demands great prudence, 
and a strict attention in the choice of the means : 
without such precautions, the remedies themselves 
may be changed into poison, and benefits be con- 
verted into instruments of abomination. 

We cannot therefore acknowledge as propa- 
gators of enlightenment, men who are so imprudent 
as to communicate to those whose reason is not suitably 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. V 

prepared, truths which they themselves do not perfectly 
comprehend, and which truths, consequently, they in- 
terpret falsely , and must apply in a wrong and dan- 
gerous manner. To enlighten man, is to excite him 
to reflection, and to render his mind sufficiently 
strong and independent to enable him, under fa- 
vourable circumstances, ultimately to attain of him- 
self the truth to which we undertake to guide him. 
It would be madness for a father and a mother 
to desire to inculcate into their children, whose 
reason is as yet but budding forth, all the truths 
known to themselves ; and it would be not less so, 
to wish to impart to adults, whose minds are not 
sufficiently formed, truths and principles above 
their understanding. Everything has its season 
and measure : men whose minds are not at all 
cultivated, are in many respects still children ; and 
their education demands caution. 

Whence it is, that to oppose with violence prejudices 
and customs which, with certain men, usefully serve 
as usual substitutes for truth, is to give a proof, not 
of a noble love for enlightenment, but of an 
inhuman levity and inexcusable cruelty. We can 
only emerge from the darkness of night through 
the intermediate dawn into the light of day ; and 
equally so, it is through errors and illusions that 
we attain insensibly to the knowledge of truth. 
When we give instruction to a child, we do not 



10 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

commence with those truths which are the most 
elevated and the most pure in each kind, to which 
we wish to conduct it, and which are to form the 
conclusion of our instruction ; but we present the 
simplest ideas to the childish and feeble under- 
standing of the young pupil; and it is by this 
path that he will arrive, by little and little, at the 
knowledge of truth. 

We must respect, therefore, the ancient customs 
and usages of every nation, if, wanting more pure 
enlightenment, these hereditary customs do but 
lead them to practical virtue. Respect also those 
useful prejudices which deter the uncultivated man 
from evil, especially if they awaken in his soul a 
sense and love of the good and noble. Your own 
mind being more enlightened, may refuse to recog- 
nise them as truths ; but your heart will render 
homage to their beneficial influence. 

Our Divine Teacher, Jesus Christ himself, at- 
tacked not the numberless prejudices and errors of 
the Jewish people, among whom he dwelt. He 
spared them wherever he believed them to be 
harmless ; he respected them wherever he recog- 
nised their utility ; and sometimes his lessons are 
even based upon them. He excused the innocent 
prejudices of his first disciples, and treated them 
as a wise father treats his children whose under- 
standings have not yet become developed: "I 



THE PROGRESS OP ENLIGHTENMENT. 11 

have," says the Saviour, " yet many things to 
say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now" 
(John xvi. 12). 

God has planted in our soul the love of truth, 
and the desire to increase our knowledge. The 
child which can scarcely understand our words, 
manifests already the wish to free itself from the 
bonds of ignorance. Every day it adds to its stock 
of knowledge ; and in proportion as it learns to 
observe, its noble curiosity is augmented. It wishes 
to know all, and the reason of everything. This 
tendency to reflect and compare never ceases : even 
in the decline of life, we find an enjoyment in the 
thought that we are not inferior to other men in 
knowledge, in cultivation of mind, and intellectual 
power. 

As, therefore, the Creator himself has implanted 
in our souls this desire of light and truth, how dare 
we to ask, with unreasonable doubt, if the develop- 
ment of mind is salutary to individuals or nations : 
if it be not desirable for governments to fix the 
limits where its progress should be checked ; and 
if it be not dangerous to devote as much care to 
the instruction of the poorer classes, condemned to 
obscurity, as to that of persons distinguished by 
the prerogatives of birth, rank, and fortune? Who 
would venture to arrogate to himself exclusively 
the rights which the human soul derives from the 



12 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

Deity? Does difference of rank and station in 
society procure different degrees of favour in 
the eyes of God? Before the tribunal of the 
Supreme Judge, is the king still privileged by the 
splendour of his throne, and the poor man treated 
as an object of contempt? No ; in the eyes of 
God we are all equal : in the empire of souls, 
God is the Father of all men, and Jesus is the 
brother of all. 

The development, therefore, of the mind, and 
the progress of knowledge, ought to have no other 
limits than have been prescribed by divine wisdom. 
The world of mind knows no other prerogatives of 
enlightenment than those established by the Creator, 
and which result from the varied nature of mind 
itself. Mortal man shares not with God the sceptre 
of the world ; man, therefore, has no power or right 
to set a limit to what is denominated popular edu- 
cation, to assign to his fellow-man the portion of 
truth beyond which his desire shall not stretch. 
The attempt would only betray at once the im- 
potence and blind bigotry of him who should set 
up his own puny will against the eternal laws of 
his Almighty Creator. 

When the Messiah undertook to enlighten the 
world, he did not convert the gift of divine wisdom 
into an exclusive privilege for a few favoured 
classes. He was never. seen to pass by in silence 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 13 

the hut of the poor labourer, or that of the man 
whose lot was to serve others ; he was never known 
to direct his steps exclusively towards the palaces 
of the great, the courts of rnonarchs, and the 
schools of the learned : but, on the contrary, our 
Divine Master sought in the poorest and most 
despised classes his first disciples, those who were 
chosen to propagate the doctrine of salvation. 
After His example, the apostles also preached 
truth equally unto the princes upon thrones, and 
to the indigent in their obscurity. Yes, the eternal 
Son, sent into the world by the Father of man- 
kind, proved that which before was not felt or not 
recognised, namely, that the most obscure and 
the most distinguished have equal right to the 
most exalted truths, and to the widest development 
of mind. 

How can we for a moment call in question the 
beneficial influence of enlightenment upon the 
happiness of mankind ? Do not the examples and 
facts of history appeal with sufficient force to our 
hearts ? Ignorant nations have ever been the most 
miserable; nor do they emerge from their bar- 
barism, or abjure their brutal customs and manners, 
until the heart- softening light of science has dis- 
pelled the darkness of their minds. 

The more our mind is enlightened, the more 
capable it is to comprehend the works of creation, 



14 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

and to love the Creator. The more the light is 
spread around, and the more the understanding 
becomes open to ideas of wisdom and order, the 
nearer also does truth lift us to the Divine 
Intelligence. 

The ignorant heathen bends his knee before the 
image of wood or stone, and figures without life, 
which he calls his gods. The more enlightened 
heathen ceases to worship the wood or stone ; he 
raises his eyes towards the sun which animates the 
world, and in that adores the soul of nature. One 
step further, and he only sees in that planet an 
object created whose course is subject to deter- 
mined laws, and he addresses his prayer to 
invisible gods. Yet another advance in the 
realm of thought, and he beholds united in one 
hand the reins of the empire of the world ; and 
he no longer divides the government of the earth 
amongst various rival divinities, but falls prostrate 
with reverence before the greatest of all Beings, 
the Creator of the universe, and the only eternal 
God. 

The ignorant, doubtless, may possess religion 
and virtue ; but in proportion as human reason is 
developed, religious worship becomes more ele- 
vated, and virtue more pure. The child whose 
intelligence is still very limited, behaves well from 
obedience ; it observes the will of God in submit- 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 15 

ting to its earthly parents, and it avoids evil from 
the fear of punishment. But soon its reason has 
made progress ; what formerly it dreaded through 
punishment, it now fears through shame ; and it 
begins to act well through a feeling of honour. 
This principle leads the child to perform every 
good and generous action. But the philosopher 
needs not honour or shame to elevate him to the 
divine sublimity of virtue. He knows the weak- 
ness of human understanding ; he knows that at 
times mortals admire brilliant vice, and despise 
indigent and modest wisdom. He honours vir- 
tue, because it constitutes the dignity of his im- 
mortal soul ; he hates vice, because vice is evil, 
and evil raises a wall of separation between man 
and the Deity. 

The stupid and vulgar are not, doubtless, de- 
prived of every sort of enjoyment ; but their hap- 
piness is circumscribed as their ideas. The only 
pleasures they know are those of the senses : they 
esteem them more than the enjoyments of mind, 
which their soul is incapable of obtaining. The 
charms which are procured by earthly possessions, 
splendour of dress, and marks of external consi- 
deration, captivate them. But the more enlight- 
ened, on the contrary, even when they do not 
despise the purely sensual pleasures, seek^ above 
all, their happiness in the occupations of the mind. 



16 THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 

Thus, the salutary influence of enlightenment 
upon individual and social happiness, is evident. 
Nor can it be otherwise : our intellectual progress 
enters into the plan of our existence ; for it per- 
forms part of the perfection to which immortal 
beings, created after the image of God, ought to 
aspire. We cannot ennoble the matter of our body; 
that is only perishable dust, — a transient covering, 
which we all alike put off; but what we can, and 
what we ought to ennoble in ourselves, is our mind, 
alone perfectible, and which alone belongs to 
eternity. 

True intellectual progress consists less in the 
things that are attended to, than in the manner in 
which they are studied. The reflective faculties 
receive development from every mental acquisition; 
and positive knowledge becomes at once the sub- 
ject of meditation and the instrument of moral 
perfection. It is, therefore, our bounden duty to 
all men, even the poorest and most unfortunate, 
to facilitate the cultivation of their minds, and 
the acquisition of knowledge; to struggle against 
everything that may give to children or to adults 
false and dangerous ideas of men, of the world, and 
of their own wants. 

It is often difficult, sometimes impossible, to 
eradicate old standing prejudices ; nor can we 
expect persons, no longer young, suddenly to 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 17 

change their modes of thinking, and renounce 
errors which custom has endeared. What is pre- 
scribed by Christianity is tolerance and indulgence, 
especially when the errors or differences of opinion 
are not manifestly contrary to general happiness. 

But all knowledge, and all enlightenment, are 
useless, unless they become the principle of elevated 
sentiments and virtuous actions. 

What purpose would the highest wisdom serve, 
if it did not raise us above circumstances, and 
impart a durable happiness ? What end would 
enlightenment serve, if not to guide us through 
the darkness of life, towards the heavenly abode of 
eternity? "For ye were sometimes darkness," 
says St. Paul, " but now are ye light in the Lord : 
walk as children of the light. For the fruit of the 
Spirit is in all goodness, and righteousness, and 
truth" (Ephes. v. 8, 9). 

Purity of manners, activity of virtue, and christian 
charity, are the signs by which is manifested the 
progress of the only enlightenment which ennobles 
the soul. Let no person boast the progress of his 
mind, if he bears not within him these honourable 
marks of moral advancement. 

The inheritors of the heavenly possessions are 
not those who proclaim the wisdom of Thy works, 
and who know Thy ordinances, O Almighty Father, 
but those who do Thy will. It is by their fruits — 



18 



THE PROGRESS OF ENLIGHTENMENT. 



it is by their works that you shall know them — 
saith our Saviour. 

I will aim then, without ceasing, at the possession 
of light and truth; but the final object of all my 
efforts shall be the sanctification of my feelings and 
conduct. — Amen. 







RECONCILIATION. 



Matthew v. 23, 24. 
Cl Therefore if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest 
that thy brother hath ought against thee ; leave there thy gift before 
the altar, and go thy way ; first be reconciled to thy brother, and 
then come and offer thy gift." 

Nothing is more onerous or difficult to mankind 
generally, than to sincerely reconcile themselves 
with those by whom they have been injured or 
offended. The animal nature revolts at a thought 
so generous, and the instinct of revenge bursts 
forth in the heart with all its obstinate and brutal 
violence ; a selfish and arbitrary pride, under the 
name of a noble dignity of heart, becomes cla- 
morous, and, refusing to yield the least portion 
of its right, says " Cannot others make the first 
advance, as well as myself ? It is not I that have 
been the originator, the exciting cause of the 
quarrel; why, therefore, should I now beg and 
seek for peace and friendship, as if I alone were 
the party to be blamed ? " Thus the repugnant 



20 RECONCILIATION. 

Jieart, if it be not sufficiently degraded to repu- 
diate or reject the duty of reconciliation, strives at 
least to palliate the refusal to be the first to come 
forward, and endeavours to justify it by a thousand 
subterfuges before the tribunal of public opinion 
and private conscience. 

" Jesus has not/ 5 say they, " meant or interpreted 
this duty so literally, that whilst under the recol- 
lection of an old offence, or it may be of a more 
recent injury, the aggrieved should give way, and 
be the first to proffer a reconciliation." But we 
shall find that what Jesus has literally meant is, 
that you should straightway make him who has 
offended you the especial object of your benevo- 
lence, and that you abjure all hatred towards your 
enemy. For thus does Jesus himself conclude his 
exhortation, " Bless them that curse you ; do good 
to them that hate you, and pray for them that 
despitefully use you, and persecute you ; for in so 
doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head ; " 
which means thus : Show them, in word and deed, 
that you are more noble and generous than they 
are, because you recompense the injuries that you 
did not merit, with goodness that they do not 
deserve on their part ; and in such wise you make 
them feel and bring them to a knowledge of their 
baseness, that they cannot look at you without the 
burning blush of shame upon their cheek. 



RECONCILIATION. 2 1 

u I will pardon/' you say, " my enemy at heart, 
but more cannot be required of me ! " Is not this 
one of the everyday gross self-delusions of ordi- 
nary and vulgar minds ? You will pardon in your 
heart ; God will know it : but why should your 
adversary know nothing of it? Is this sincere 
forgiveness, when he who receives it is to remain 
in ignorance of it ? You pardon in secret, but 
your silence perpetuates resentment and its bitter 
fruits. What is required of you is not to go in 
person to your enemy and say, " I forgive you, and 
desire a reconciliation with you/' but to prove to 
him, by your conduct, that you sincerely pardon 
him, and that you feel no rancour towards him. 

" I will forgive," it is said, " but I cannot 
possibly forget ! " which generally signifies, I will 
not revenge myself, but I shall be on my guard 
against offering any friendly services and favours 
again. Is not that, however, revenge under another 
guise, when you refuse to do a kindness or service 
for him from whom you may have received some 
offence ? Jesus invites and requires of us to show 
ourselves even the friends of our enemies; but 
does friendship consist in being only content not 
ourselves to injure, but to remain passive specta- 
tors of the evil committed by others upon each 
other ? 

" Some opportunity, no doubt," say some, " will 



22 RECONCILIATION. 

present itself to terminate the quarrel which divides 
us." Whence do you know that it will arrive ? You 
only, in fact, defer the reconciliation, because you 
do not feel sincerely upon the subject. If you were 
animated by really noble sentiments, you would 
seek with impatient pleasure for the opportunity 
of showing to your adversary that the sting of the 
offence is removed from your heart. Nay, if your 
conscience reproaches you with having perhaps 
gone too far in the first ebullition, what else is it 
but a miserable false shame, which prevents you 
from yielding and begging pardon ? To revenge 
one's self, or to punish others, is a brutal pleasure ; 
but to possess a soul sufficiently grand and exalted 
to punish one's self, is a heavenly enjoyment. 
Wherefore should you take more glory in resem- 
bling the animal rather than the angel ? Because, 
instead of being an imitator of Jesus, you are the 
glave of your own degrading and base feelings. 

" I have nothing to reproach myself with," you 
again say, " in my own conduct, for I am the in- 
jured party. To require formally a reconciliation, 
or to oblige me to make advances to obtain it, 
would be making me appear as acknowledging a 
wrong I never committed. I am ready to forget 
my resentment ; but will not renounce my right 
to protect and defend, which is one of my first 
duties." This is the language of a man anxious 



RECONCILIATION. 23 

to justify his aversion by logical motives, without 
reflecting that what is bad and censurable in itself 
is never justifiable ; everything that springs from a 
passionate sensibility is bad and censurable. Defend 
your right, — this is your duty ; but respect the 
right of your adversary, which is not less your 
duty. His conduct has inspired you with contempt, 
you will say ; but no matter. Your right consists 
in protecting your honour and social position ; but 
nothing can authorise you to cause your enemy to 
lose in any way the reputation he enjoyed and the 
rank he held in society. What was injustice on 
his part, can never become justice on your side. 
You merit contempt, if, by the elevation of your 
character, you do not force even your adversaries 
to esteem you. Prove, on the one hand, the validity 
of your invaded right ; but on the other, show that 
your soul is elevated above ignoble disgusts, and 
that, if even your right appeared revoked, in doubt 
eventually, still the nobility of your sentiments 
never would be so. 

Peace cannot, it is true, ally itself with wicked- 
ness ; but still it is possible to effect peace with 
wicked individuals. Hate the sin, but not the 
sinner. You rebuke the errors of your friends, 
but you do not on that account discard those friends 
themselves. The mother chastises her child, but 
does not love it the less for that. The crime 



24 RECONCILIATION. 

which is punished by society with death, fills you 
with horror ; but your heart lends its pity to the 
malefactor, when led to the place of execution. 
You, in this case, recognise the possibility to dis- 
tinguish between the fault and the individual : 
whence arises it that you cease to acknowledge it 
when the fault committed wounds you personally ? 
Fortify yourself against the malevolence of your 
adversary, but do not become malicious yourself in 
turn, for you only exasperate his irritation against 
you. The legitimate defence of your right is as 
distant from the thirst of vengeance as the heaven 
is removed from the earth. 

Nations assert against nations their rights with 
the edge of the sword, because they have over 
them no earthly judge to decide upon their quarrel. 
The law and authorities of the state adjudicate and 
punish a fault, when the rights and privileges of 
a citizen have been violated ; but they leave over 
to the judgment and conscience of every indivi- 
dual the smaller grievances that may concern him. 
But even war, sanguinary war itself, has only for 
its object the right of one people, but not the de- 
struction of the other ; and, in the state, the law 
and authorities adjudge only against the crime, and 
not against the person of the criminal. Do you 
wish to resemble barbarous nations and unright- 
eous judges, and hate the person, instead of con- 



RECONCILIATION. 25 

demning and repressing crime ? Nothing can more 
surely conciliate for yon the esteem and respect of 
those who wish you ill, than this incorruptible jus- 
tice ; which, whilst you blame them for their 
faults, prompts you to acknowledge their good 
qualities, and to serve and benefit them where you 
can, without, however, giving the name of virtues 
to their failings. 

When we have been treated ill or unkindly by 
any one, our resentment usually presents him to 
our imagination in colours far more black and irre- 
concilable than he really is. All his good qualities 
become diminished in our eyes ; his imperfections 
appear magnified ; his words and actions, however 
trivial their import, are interpreted as so many 
indications of a bad character ; and even his acts 
of virtue are considered with distrust and sus- 
picion. This disposition, which excludes all equa- 
nimity of the soul, only associates itself with 
hatred, malice, and the blindness of selfish passion. 
It banishes from our heart every generous senti- 
ment ; the spirit of Jesus is no longer in us. 

We are more often as unjust in our friendship 
as in our aversion. Whether we live at variance 
with the one individual, or on good terms with the 
other, we fancy the former worse, or the latter 
better, than he really is ; and we exaggerate the 
faults of the one, and diminish those of the other. 



26 RECONCILIATION. 

If such delusions of mankind were of less frequent 
occurrence, there would neither be such numerous 
instances of men abandoning themselves to dire 
animosity, nor of giving themselves up to precipi- 
tate affection; they would hate with less bitterness, 
and love with less intensity. If, therefore, you 
wish to be wise, study the failings of your friends 
and the favourable features in the character of your 
adversaries : you will then not be deceived in 
friendship, and you will be more moderate in your 
aversion. There is not one upon earth so exem- 
plary as to merit from us an affection equal to our 
most sacred duties ; but neither is there any one 
so degraded as not to possess some quality where- 
with to challenge real estimation. 

The first germs of the majority of the disunions 
of mankind are generally sown by misconception, 
wrong interpretations of conduct, — hazarded, very 
possibly, at moments of ill humour, — and the whis- 
perings and suggestions of suspicion, aroused, 
perhaps, without any cause. The mutual cold- 
ness often turns, at first, upon paltry trifles ; this 
feeling is then strengthened by absurd reports, and 
statements, the effect of accident, augment the 
evil. At last, the false pride of neither party will 
give way; each must first see the other humbled ; 
and thus, those perhaps who were completely 
adapted to mutually esteem and treasure each 



RECONCILIATION, *21 

other, and possessed the means of rendering to 
one another essential services, part from each 
other's company in aversion. 

And does a mere trifle — for everything tem- 
poral and earthly is such — merit being the cause 
for rendering mutually our lives so bitter in every 
way ? What can I gain by my hatred and ran- 
cour, if thereby I must be deprived of one single 
hour of peace and happiness \ Is not he a fool 
indeed, who, with resentment and malice, infuses 
poison into the goblet of joy- If he that has 
offended us is morally less worthy than ourselves, 
what harm can his injury to us produce ? Why 
do we not rather submit to his foibles : or, if higher 
duties forbid it, why do we not treat him in all 
other respects with generosity and forbearance, 
choosing rather the more noble and directly con- 
trary way of action to that he has selected 1 Or 
if, despite his failings, he is recommended by 
praiseworthy qualities, why do we withhold from 
him the esteem they justify, and attach such ex- 
clusive and excessive importance to the former ? 
Do we not thereby turn the arms against ourselves, 
and impair and deteriorate our own worth I 

However grave an injury may be that we have 
received, it never can give us a right to hate the 
offender personally. His conduct merely warns us 
not to enter again into such relationship with him, 



28 RECONCILIATION. 

as to give him occasion to offend us a second time. 
The injury we have received should command us 
to be circumspect, but not to revenge ourselves. 
Vengeance only provokes vengeance ; but when, 
by a generous conduct, we constrain the offender 
to acknowledge his injustice, and to repent his 
precipitation, that is the triumph of the Christian 
and the sage : that is the exalted victory of virtue. 

Obtain, therefore^ this glorious triumph, if you 
have not enjoyed it already, — if you have never yet 
seen the tears of emotion in the eyes of a human 
being, whom, instead of hating, you compel to 
respect and honour you. Obtain this triumph, 
and you will never desire again the victory of 
revenge and malice. By this triumph is verified 
the words, " Bless them that curse us, to do good 
to them that despitefully use us !" That which 
Jesus, your Divine Master, required, is your own 
triumph. Can you still consider his command- 
ment too severe or difficult ? 

The days of our communion together upon earth 
are so short, alas ! why should we poison them with 
anger and animosity ? There are still persons, 
perhaps, who mistake your character, and whom 
hitherto you could only endure with difficulty ; 
obtain over yourself a holy triumph towards a 
reconciliation. Who knows if the individual with 
whom you are at variance, and whom perhaps you 



RECONCILIATION. 29 

have also mortified, may not soon, nay even in a 
few days or hours, descend into the tomb ? Would 
you wish to make his last moments heavy and 
miserable? Would you desire to prevent him 
from sleeping in peace ? Ought he to leave this 
world with groans of regret, and to enter the pre- 
sence of God with the sigh of accusation against 
you? 

And you yourself, can you calculate the period 
you may still continue among us here below ? 
Could you die tranquilly if you died unreconciled ? 
And if even., when on the bed of death, the smile 
of pardon should play upon your dying lips, will 
your adversary be present to receive it ? The 
most precious inheritance you can leave to your 
kindred, is the high estimation and friendship that 
you have enjoyed. Whosoever sinks into the 
tomb without being reconciled, leaves a maledic- 
tion for a legacy. 

What a sublime sensation must accompany the 
power of saying, " I know no one on earth whose 
enemy I am !" There is no disgrace in behold- 
ing one's self the object of hostile attack; but it is 
always discreditable and reprehensible to attack 
and wound others. 

Dare I proclaim with joyous spirit, / know no 
one on earth whose enemy I am, or towards whom I 
nourish resentment? Thou, who searchest the 



30 RECONCILIATION. 

heart, my soul is open to Thine eye : judge Thou, 
O God of charity and love ! Do I wish to doom 
to hatred those that are my brothers by birth 
and in redemption, — Thy children, Eternal and 
Divine Goodness ? Would I wish to hate, for the 
sake of some wretched trifle, those Thou lovest? 
Would I desire to hate irreconcileabiy, and never 
to forgive, — I, who attend Thy temples of worship, 
who go to Thy altars, — who participate in the 
atonement-supper of Jesus Christ, the merciful 
Mediator of the world ? 

No, no ; I will love those that hate me, bless 
those that curse me, and do good to them who 
injure me. I will protect the reputation of those 
that calumniate me, do service to those who refuse 
me their good offices, and succour those who have 
abandoned me in my necessity. We are all sin- 
ners, full of defects ; and I will therefore be com- 
passionate and indulgent. I will feel a friendship 
towards the individual, although I may blame and 
condemn the vice itself. Pardon me, O Lord, my 
offences, as I will pardon those who have offended 
me. Be Thou merciful, O Heavenly Judge, who 
art seated above the stars and the worlds, which 
bow before thee.— Amen. 



THE OPINION AXD JUDGMENT OF 
THE WORLD. 



-LPHESIANS IV, Tl O'J. 

%> That ye put off concerning the former conversation the old man, 
which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts ; and be renewed 
in the spirit of your mind ; and that ye put on the new man, 
which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness. 
Wherefore : putting away lying, speak every man truth with his 
neighbour : for we are members one of another. Be ye angry, 
and sin not : let not the sun go down upon your wrath : neither 
give place to the devil. Let him that stole, steal no more : but 
rather let him labour, working with his hands the thing which is 
good, that he may have to give to him that needeth. Let no 
corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but that which 
is good to the use of edifyiDg, that it may minister grace unto the 
hearers. And grieve not the holy Spirit of God, whereby ye are 
sealed unto the day of redemption. Let all bitterness, and wrath, 
and anger, and clamour, and evil speaking, be put away from you, 
with all malice : and be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, 
forgiving one another, even as God for Christ's sake hath forgiven 
you. " 

Many persons, who have learnt in the school of 
experience how fickle and uncertain are the 
opinions and judgment of the multitude, feel no 
hesitation in treating them with proud disdain 
and contempt: and whether it be in forming 



32 THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 

resolutions or in executing their design, they 
evince equal indifference in respect to what the 
world may think or say upon the subject. A still 
greater number, however, — or rather, the majority 
of mankind, — attach too great a value to public 
opinion; and, too easily biassed by, and too 
sensible to its favour or disfavour, they study 
more to please others than to act for the interest 
of their own welfare and salvation. 

This infirmity is a source of much and varied 
discontent to numerous individuals. How many 
does it deprive of tranquillity of mind ; and how 
many whole families are thus rendered unhappy ! 
Every day it produces some coolness amongst 
even the most intimate friends ; it poisons the 
relations of social life, and calls forth the most 
painful and afflicting results. And yet, a more 
proper and justly-formed idea and appreciation of 
the world's opinion would have spared us many 
anxious and sorrowful hours, and have ensured to 
our heart the calmness and repose it can now no 
longer enjoy. 

But, alas ! the fruits of experience are lost for 
us. In spite of the unhappy days our sus- 
ceptibility for the opinion of the world has 
caused us to endure, we, nevertheless, do not 
abstain from the early inculcation into the 
minds of youth of a too deep respect for the 



THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 33 

opinions of others. And what do we effect by 
this ? — We imprudently prepare for them a melan- 
choly prospect, and mislead and entangle them 
in false notions. We daily hear parents ask their 
children, in a tone of caution and warning, " What 
will the world say?" But very rarely do they 
show themselves sufficiently wise to ask, " What 
will our all-knowing God think ?" 

This phrase, " What will the world say ?" ex- 
ercises over us, from earliest infancy, great in- 
fluence and power. Accustomed to hear and 
repeat it, we are more anxious to appear virtuous 
than to endeavour really to be so ; and we lend a 
more willing and ready ear to the expression of 
public opinion than to the voice of our own con- 
science. Satisfied, and perfectly at ease when 
men pronounce a favourable judgment of our 
acts, we lose sight of the tribunal of our Supreme 
Judge. 

Melancholy and wretched resource of infirm 
souls ! We forget, that when once we are stretched 
in our coffin, we shall no longer be enabled to hear 
the opinion of mortals, whilst the sentence of the 
Sovereign Judge of the world will resound unto 
eternity ! The good and favourable testimony of 
men, easy of deception, will be of no avail to us 
before Him who reads and penetrates all hearts, 
and whose almighty powers of knowledge cannot 



34 THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 

be deceived or overcome by illusion. The opinion 
of the world is only based on external signs ; its 
view cannot dive into the mysteries of the heart, 
nor discover its most hidden secrets. It only 
judges the outside of man, which forms the foun- 
dation of its opinion. How often may it not be 
deceived ! Each of us only forms his estimate of 
the actions of others in proportion to our peculiar 
inclinations, and the motives by which they are 
influenced. How erroneous and uncertain must 
be this rule for our judgment ! 

When we thus know the impure sources of the 
world's opinion, can and ought we to attach to it 
so much importance ? How often have the most 
virtuous men been painfully mistaken by their 
contemporaries, and their hard-earned reputation 
calumniated whilst living, but to the glory of 
which, when dead, posterity has gratefully raised 
the most precious and lasting monuments ! And 
again, how many have been lauded and exalted to 
the skies as models of virtue, who, after death, 
have been proved to be, whilst living, the authors 
of crime and evil ! The same people that strewed 
with palm-trees the path before the Saviour, and 
saluted him with hosannas when he entered Jeru- 
salem, shortly afterwards made the air resound 
with their cruel cries of " Crucify him ! crucify 
him! 5 ' How often have not the prejudice and 



THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 35 

biassed feelings of the judge condemned the in- 
nocent to suffer in chains for the guilty, and made 
virtue instead of crime perish on the scaffold. 

But, on the other hand, it would be equally 
dangerous, in all cases, to treat with proud disdain 
the opinion held of us by others. It should never 
be considered a matter of indifference, whether 
we enjoy, amidst our contemporaries, a good or 
bad reputation; for, in many situations of life, we 
cannot do good but with the support derived 
from public confidence. The Christian is naturally 
led to ask himself this important question, u How 
am I to act in respect to the opinion of my felloic- 
creatures, whether it regards myself or concerns 
others?" 

First, I will consider my duty as a witness of the 
judgment formed of my relations, friends, and ac- 
quaintances. For I cannot be indifferent to the 
good or to the evil that may happen to them ; 
living with and amongst them, I ought, and am 
bound to suffer with them when they suffer. 

When you perceive an opinion formed and 
becoming more firmly established, which threatens 
the good reputation of your friend, endeavour to 
ascertain the source of the reports circulated. This 
source once traced, it will be easy for you to form 
a judgment whether it is pure or not. But it is rare 
to discover the original author of a public rumour, 

d2 



36 THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 

which often consists of hearsays^ repeated by idle 
and stupid mischief-makers. Tired with their 
nullity, many persons, in order to give themselves 
importance, often hasten to circulate certain scraps 
of conversation, scarcely heard perhaps, and often 
misunderstood. Hatred also, private jealousy, the 
mania for derision and banter, the promptitude to 
suspect evil, and a vulgar and blind credulity- — all 
these vices, which appear only the consequences 
of a bad education, are the source of many un- 
favourable and erroneous reports. 

Be cautious not to repeat blindly the opinion of the 
world, so that you may avoid becoming a parti- 
cipator in the wrong it inflicts. K Judge not, 
that ye be not judged; and with what measure 
ye mete it shall be measured to you again" 
(Matt. vii. 1, 8> 

Listen to the opinions expressed by short-sighted 
men. but do not lightly yield much faith to them : 
above all. be not too quick in circulating them, if 
you would not run the risk of becoming an instru- 
ment of calumny. Neither maintain strict silence 
when you hear the character of your friend or 
neighbour attacked, or made the subject of ridicule 
and scorn or hypocritical pity : step forward, and 
state all you know of the victim of malevolence. 
Make yourself, as far as truth claims and sanctions, 
the advocate and champion of him whom general 



THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 37 

opinion charges and condemns, — careful in ex- 
tenuating when not able to prove his entire 
innocence. Your mildness and kindliness of 
temper will prepossess even the accuser himself in 
your favour : he will feel convinced, from what he 
has witnessed, that, if required, you will advocate 
even his cause, should he likewise in turn be the 
man calumniated. You will thus gain the grateful 
affection of him also, who, by your means, amidst 
the raillery and scoffing of the whole assembly, has 
been treated with honour and esteem. 

On the other hand, examine with impartiality the 
conduct of him whom public opinion condemns with so 
much rigour. Ascertain how his conduct has given 
cause for the unfavourable opinion expressed. If he 
is your friend or acquaintance, go to him, and em- 
ploy all the means that delicacy permits, in order to 
open his eyes to the opinion formed by the world, 
and to a sense of his own conduct. If he is in- 
nocent, then come forward as the defender of his 
innocence : confound the calumny, but show cha- 
rity towards the calumniator, if the circumstances 
can in part excuse his wrong. Unveil the truth, 
and correct the opinion created by prejudice. 

In all cases, however, prudently avoid the society 
of him who stands in bad repute, if you do not 
know him better than he has been judged by his contem- 
poraries. If your circumstances force you to hold 



38 THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 

intercourse with him, avoid a more intimate 
connexion ; bad company destroys insensibly good 
manners. Do not confide too much in the strength 
of your own virtue, nor calculate too much upon 
easily resisting the continual seduction of bad 
example and treacherous words. Avoid the 
temptation: to defy and dare the danger, is to 
expose yourself to ruin. 

If you behold any of your friends, or those you 
may be acquainted with only, outraging the laws 
of propriety and decency, and exposing themselves 
to the condemnation of the world — if you find all 
your prayers and representations fail in reforming 
them, then act with independent determination and 
courage, and part from them. To find themselves 
forsaken by good and virtuous men, is the first 
punishment they must experience for their madness 
and folly. Say, with David, " Blessed is the man 
that walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, 
nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor sitteth in 
the seat of the scornful." (Psalm i. 1). 

You will thus not only preserve the purity of 
your own heart, that first treasure of life, but also 
of your good reputation, which ought to be ever 
sacred in your eyes, inasmuch as without it you 
cannot be of service or benefit to your fellow- 
creatures. It should ever be a sacred duty with 
you to preserve in all its purity the honour of 



THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 39 

the name inherited from your forefathers, as the 
most precious portion of your patrimony. 

Therefore, you cannot remain altogether indif- 
ferent to what the opinion of the world may express 
about yourself, and the duties it may impose upon 
you. 

Above all things, when even you have nothing 
wherewith to reproach yourself, remember conti- 
nually how inconstant men are in their opinion ; 
that they praise this day what they condemned 
yesterday, and they honour to-morrow what they 
depreciated to-day; and, incessantly biassed and 
blinded by the appearance, they rarely perceive 
the reality of things. Never, therefore, make the 
world's opinion your idol ; never esteem it for more 
than its value. You will thus save yourself much 
secret pain and vexation, and you will never become 
the sport of man's caprice. 

If you are convinced within yourself of the purity 
of your intentions, and the justice and utility of 
your dealings, meet the clamours and outcries of 
the world with silence. Pursue your career, sup- 
ported by the approbation of God and your own 
conscience ; and, should your actions be miscon- 
ceived by the whole world, they will not be mis- 
construed by God. If you are forced to submit, 
for the sake of the good cause, to insult, calumny, 
and persecution, do not be discouraged : without a 



40 THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 

struggle there can be no victory. God and your 
own heart will compensate you for the hatred of 
your slanderers and enemies. 

How many praiseworthy enterprises, which have 
been crowned with the blessings of all nations, 
would never have been formed nor accomplished ; 
how many valuable institutions and useful establish- 
ments, so worthy of our gratitude, would never 
have existed, if the courage and perseverance of 
their authors had yielded to the clamours of oppo- 
sition produced by ignorance and intolerance. 
Elevate yourself, therefore, above the opinion of 
the world, and turn your eye towards Heaven, 
when you take upon yourself the charge of doing 
good. 

The influence of worldly opinion ought only to 
divert and mislead little minds from the accom- 
plishment of the good they undertake to perform. 
It is the peculiar quality of men, infirm in mind 
and heart, without confidence in Divine Providence 
or in their own strength, to prefer the approbation 
of blind mortals to that of God, who alone is all- 
powerful. 

Alas ! there exist but too many of these unfor- 
tunate beings, who dread much more the judgment 
of men than the judgment of the Eternal. A sinner 
feels ashamed to confess his errors and reform his 
conduct ; his vanity forces him to continue on the 



THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 41 

road which, sooner or later, must conduct him to 
ruin. He fears to render himself ridiculous in the 
eyes of the world : he dreads the triumph of his 
enemies ; and, rather than yield to a momentary 
humiliation, he prefers the malediction of his con- 
science and the repentance that awaits him in 
eternity. In order to conceal his first error, he 
commits a fresh fault ; and, in order to keep secret 
this fault, he has recourse to crime : he entangles 
himself more and more in the web of sin, until he 
at length is no longer able to extricate himself. 
Fearing to become the mockery of the world, he 
makes himself the object of its aversion and horror. 
Another, the victim of vanity, in order to main- 
tain his reputation and rank in society, gives 
himself up to lavish expenditure, which soon 
exceeds his income. He wishes to appear more 
exalted than his station in life justifies ; he sacri- 
fices to the opinion of the world the comfort and 
happiness of his family ; he yields to this idol 
his internal peace and tranquillity, until at last all 
his resources fail him, and expose him to public 
contempt and pity. Alas ! how often are we forced 
to witness the fear and dread of public opinion 
produce such melancholy and desperate results, 
that men, instructed in their youth to take it for 
their guide and rule through life, have at last in 
their madness put an end to their own existence ! 



42 THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 

0, my soul ! fear not the eye of man^ as long as 
thou knowest and feelest thou hast not to dread 
the all-searching eye of God. Thou knowest that 
calumny has not spared the most noble and ele- 
vated mortals : and innocence itself is not bevond 
the reach of its venom. 

Nevertheless, however inconstant and fickle 
human opinion may be, you must not show your- 
self insensible to its effects as soon as you find it 
may deprive you of the esteem of honest men. If 
your honour is attacked by serious and grave 
accusations, you owe it as a duty to yourself and 
your connexions, to defend it, for your silence 
would only tend to confirm those charges. 

Your good name and reputation are treasures 
you have inherited from your forefathers, and 
which you must transmit as inviolate as you 
have received them, to your descendants. They 
will conciliate the confidence even of strangers, 
although yourself personally unknown to them. 
These precious possessions banish from your so- 
ciety all vicious and unprincipled men, and you 
gain thereby the affection of the friends of virtue. 
Thanks to the public confidence, which by this 
means you gain, you are rendered strong in your 
weakness, rich in your poverty, and excite and 
receive universal sympathy when in misfortune. 
" A good name is rather to be chosen than great 



THE OPINION AND JrDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 43 

riches, and loving favour rather than silver and 
gold." (Proverbs xxii. 1.) 

In general, it is much better not to expose 
yourself to the opinion of the world. Happy is he 
who can pass his days in retirement and obscurity, 
and whose name is only mentioned and introduced 
within the limits of a chosen circle of friends. The 
venomous tongue of slander and envy attacks 
everywhere the individual whose merits or happi- 
ness renders him an object of observation and 
attention, 

When you perceive that the opinion of the icorld is 
unfavourable to you, search and examine within your- 
self if some error may not exist, to deprive you of the 
public esteem. If you discover the error, arm your- 
self with courage, and struggle with the defect 
which dishonours you ; for it is a grand fault to 
repulse the esteem, the confidence, and good feeling 
of virtuous men. You deprive- yourself of a most 
powerful means to merit good of mankind, and to 
live happily amongst honest men. 

Remember that the opinion of the world, when 
it is founded upon one of your real faults, never 
changes, but erects upon the very grave itself a 
monument of dishonour. The most powerful 
monarchs even bend and humble themselves before 
the force of public opinion, when it pronounces 
truth ; it judges tyrants, revenges abused virtue, 



44 THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 

and acts as the severest scourge over the head of 
those instruments of iniquity whom it is not in the 
power of man to bring before another tribunal. 

If vou are ignorant of the causes which have 
deprived you of the esteem of honest and well- 
meaning men, and of the motives which have 
influenced vour friends to shut their hearts against 
you, ascertain and demand from one of the most 
sincere amongst them for what you are blamed, 
and whence the coldness that exists ? But if he 
fears to mortify you, perhaps, by stating the whole 
truth, or he is dazzled by his friendship, and gives 
but a faint outline of the reason, then lend your 
ear to the words of your enemy : from him you 
may assuredly cull the truth, especially amidst his 
highly-coloured and exaggerated detail of your 
faults. 

Never, my Heavenly Father, does innocence 
feel more conscious of its worth, than when it is 
persecuted and loaded with affliction. But if I 
may only appear innocent and pure in Thine eye, 
O Thou who readest the soul, then how sweet to 
me shall be the cup of sorrow ! 

There may be men who harbour hostile feelings 
towards me. The meanest among them can injure 
me ; for we ought not to despise even the weakest 
of our enemies. But have I used any effort 
myself to merit their esteem ? Have I taken any 



THE OPINION AND JUDGMENT OF THE WORLD. 45 

step towards a reconciliation ? Alas ! I am forced, 
even in Thy presence, O my Heavenly Father, to 
confess that my heart in secret nourishes feelings 
of hatred and anger. 

But henceforth away; hence with these criminal 
thoughts and feelings ; let them be banished from 
my soul, consecrated to Thee, All Holy ! First, let 
me be good and just; and then let me try, by 
generosity and kindness, to disarm my adversaries 
of their enmity towards me. 

Help me, O my Heavenly Father, in this impor- 
tant work ; and let Thy Holy Spirit penetrate my 
soul, and the image of Jesus, who innocently suf- 
fered, elevate my strength and courage. 

May no malediction from the mouth of an 
unreconciled fellow-creature hover over my death- 
bed; and may my coffin not be followed to its 
grave by the tears of any human creature whom, 
whilst living, I might have lessened and calum- 
niated by my imprudent and mischievous tongue ! 

Lord, my God, and soon to be my Judge ! far 
from desiring to incense or exasperate my fellow- 
creature, it shall be my endeavour, full of charity 
for his infirmities, to bring him back with mild- 
ness to the path of virtue, so that on the day of 
judgment I may receive thy mercy ! Amen. 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN 
RELIGION. 



St. Luke, xii. 32. 
" Fear not, little flock," said Jesus one day to his disciples, with 
prophetic majesty ; " for it is your Father's good pleasure to give 
you the kingdom." 

More than three hundred years had passed away 
amidst the grand and mighty struggles of the 
church; for more than three hundred years the 
Christians had endured the most shameful injury 
and persecution; innumerable martyrs had perished 
amidst every possible torture that the brain of man 
could invent, and many had sunk and died in 
misery: but after these three hundred years of 
sufferings, the persecuted Church rose again, and 
stood triumphant upon the earth. The Christians 
became inhabitants of all parts of the world ; great 
numbers were distributed amongst the ranks of the 
Roman troops ; many were appointed judges, and 
were mixed up with the head functionaries of the 
empire, and the most distinguished philosophers 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 47 

and learned men of the age. The very throne itself 
of the emperors was surrounded by Christians, 
and in number they nearly equalled the heathens 
themselves, by whom they were continually perse- 
cuted. A Christian emperor was alone wanting 
upon the Oriental throne, in order to effect a general 
reform ; and this emperor appeared in the person of 
Constantine. 

Surrounded even from his early youth by Chris- 
tians, this prince had become familiar with the 
gospel of Jesus Christ ; and the first impressions 
of such a tender age were never effaced completely 
from the mind. Christians had faithfully adhered 
to him, and furnished him with assistance, during 
the many persecutions he had in early life expe- 
rienced, and he testified his gratitude by protecting 
their faith. His ambition had long been held in 
restraint; and the Christian army fought bravely 
for him, as soon as they were made aware of his 
favourable inclinations towards their doctrine. He 
succeeded, accordingly, in triumphing over all 
those powers that disputed his right to the dominion 
of the Roman empire, and gratefully acknowledged 
that he owed his success to the God of the Chris- 
tians, and not to the idols of stone worshipped by 
the heathens ; in which belief he was confirmed by 
a singular event. 

One day, when he was about to give battle to 



48 THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION'. 

one of his ambitious rivals for the imperial crown, 
and the attack had already partially commenced. 
he cast his eyes towards heaven with doubtful 
anxiety, when, behold, the rays of the mid- day sun 
presented the form of a cross, the venerated symbol 
of Christianity. Although the appearance of such 
a meteor is nothing extraordinary, nor contrary to 
the laws of nature, as even in modern times we 
have seen the rays of the moon, refracted in the 
hidden cloud, present the sign of the cross — still it 
is a phenomenon not less rare. Constantino, who 
had never before witnessed nor heard of such a 
sign, and who was placed in a position so critical 
that doubtless his thoughts turned towards God and 
his crucified Son, interpreted this cross into a 
heavenly omen of victory, and continued the battle 
with renewed courage until he vanquished the 
enemy. This circumstance, which was afterwards 
regarded as an undoubted miracle, became mixed 
up with various traditions and legends, the greater 
part of which were, no doubt, purely fictitious. 

However this may be, the conqueror henceforth 
declared himself for the Christian religion, which 
he embraced at once by having himself baptised. 
He enjoined all those who would possess his favour 
to be converted to Christianity. When, for the 
first time, as the supreme and absolute monarch. 
his sceptre extended over the entire Roman empire, 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 49 

Christianity became the sole and exclusive reli- 
gion of the state in both the east and western 
countries. Such was the end of all the persecution, 
after a sanguinary war of three hundred years. 
The name of Christian became now a public title of 
honour, and an introduction to official rank and 
dignity; the cross was publicly planted where 
hitherto the altars of heathenism had flourished, 
and was borne in all its splendour on the imperial 
banners, whilst the temples of the false gods were 
changed into temples of the invisible and living 
God. 

This epoch was one of the most important for the 
gospel of Christ upon earth. Its truths found a 
support in the secular authority ; not only indi- 
viduals, but whole nations, were converted and 
baptized. The Christian religion soon became one 
the most widely circulated throughout the world ; 
and, in a terrestrial point of view, secured from 
destruction and the assaults of unbelief. 

But, whilst we have here cause to admire the 
ways of Providence, we must not conceal from 
ourselves the fact that Christianity lost in internal 
dignity and purity what it gained in the external 
lustre of its triumphs; for many hundreds and 
thousands of those who now suddenly became 
Christians possessed but a very imperfect know- 
ledge of the fundamental truths of the faith 



50 THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 

announced by Jesus and his apostles. They adopted 
the name of Christians less through conviction of 
the glory attached to the revelations of the Messiah. 
than through a desire to please the emperor, and to 
avoid exposing themselves, by obstinate perse- 
verance in idolatry, to ill usage and punishment. 
They fancied they had become Christians by bap- 
tism alone, and had performed all the duties of 
religion by repeating a prayer, a confession of 
belief, attending the churches, and participating in 
the holv sacrament. But. Christians outwardly, 
they were still heathens at heart. Their minds 
remained rude and superstitious: they abjured 
none of their vices, but. on the contrary, many 
rejoiced in the hope of obtaining after death 
supreme happiness, whilst their existence on earth 
might be passed in the full enjoyment of every 
sensual pleasure. In their deplorable state of 
ignorance, they imagined that faith alone was sal- 
vation : and that Jesus, by his death upon the cross 
of Golgotha, had purified them from all sin. 

The emperor himself, a newly-converted Chris- 
tian, who in subsequent times was not only styled 
the Great, but also the Holy or Saint Constantine. 
because he had made the Christian church tri- 
umphant, and had elevated the bishops to power 
and influence, remained inwardly an unchristian 
heathen: his ambition, his domineering and cruel 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 51 

spirit, remained the same. He gave himself up to 
the most dreadful excesses of a suspicious and 
vindictive character, and shed the blood of many 
of his innocent subjects. In order to obtain his 
object, he became the greatest criminal in the 
immense empire he ruled, and sacrificed even his 
own relations the moment he felt the slightest sus- 
picion against them. He broke the most sacred 
engagements, as soon as he perceived that by so 
doing he might derive advantage or benefit. Such 
was his character. But he did not the less encou- 
rage the adoption of the Christian religion. He 
confided into the hands of the Christians the first 
offices of his empire, and granted to the priests and 
bishops their rights and liberty, together with con- 
siderable revenues. He built new and magnificent 
churches, and transferred to the Christians the 
heathen temples, and substituted for the heathen 
figures the symbols of Jesus Christ, his apostles, 
and other pious men, whose acts in the cause of 
faith had obtained for them the title of saints. He 
introduced with strict zeal the general observance 
of divine worship on the Sabbath-day, and encou- 
raged and promoted, by every possible means, 
universal veneration and love for the Christian 
church; but he forgot and neglected all that was 
most sacred in the religion of Jesus Christ. The 
emperor himself knew not, or would not know, the 

E 2 



52 THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 

true spirit of religion, because he hoped to obtain 
eternal happiness by a path more convenient than 
by a struggle against his passions and vices. 
Thence it was that, seeing his end approach, he 
caused himself to be baptized, calculating by that 
to purify himself without trouble from all his sins. 
Oh ! how much had already the faith of 
Christians deviated from its primitive simplicity, 
dignity, and wisdom ! With how much abuse 
and superstition was it still to be overshadowed in 
the obscurity of future ages ! Even now, had one 
of the disciples or apostles of Jesus reappeared on 
earth to be a witness of the state of the Christian 
church, in how very few Christians would he 
have recognised the character of the true dis- 
ciples of Jesus of Nazareth, and how different the 
Christianity of that period to the doctrine preached 
by the Saviour ! " Thou only art holy, O Lord," 
saith the Scripture, (Rev. xv. 4) ; and yet, now 
men were made saints already by men upon earth. 
" God is love ! " said John ; and now the various 
Christian sects persecuted each other with fire and 
sword. " God is a spirit, and those that worship 
him must worship him in spirit and in truth!" 
said Jesus ; and now the praying multitude were 
to be seen prostrate before the bones of martyrs, 
the images of mortals transformed into saints, and 
crucifixes made by their own hands. " When ye 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 53 

pray, use not vain repetitions, as the heathen 
do; for they think that they shall be heard for 
their much speaking ! " said the Son of God, 
(Matt. vi. 7) ; and now the crowd were heard to 
repeat in the temples and over the tombs of 
martyrs, long prayers, learnt by heart — prayers 
which many among them neither understood nor 
felt, but by which, nevertheless, they believed 
they served God and obtained salvation. The 
Saviour of the world had once preached against 
the error of the Samaritans and the Jews, of 
whom the former imagined that Jehovah pre- 
ferred being worshipped on Mount Gerizim, and 
the latter at Jerusalem. " Ye worship ye know not 
what ;" said the Lord ; " but the hour cometh when 
the true worshippers shall worship the Father in 
spirit and in the truth," (St. John iv. 22, 23 ;) and 
yet one church became more holy than another, 
and more favoured and fertile in miracles. Jesus 
said to his disciples, " God is the Father of all in 
heaven, and ye are his children, approach him with 
filial confidence ; all that ye may ask in my name, 
he will grant you ;" and now God was no longer 
regarded as the Father of his creatures, but as a 
monarch, who, like an earthly ruler, was sur- 
rounded by his counsellors and favourites, through 
whose intercession alone it was possible to obtain 
a favour from the Sovereign of the world. 



54 THE TRIUMPH OP THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 

Alas, how deformed had the religion of Jesus 
become ! From year to year it became more and 
more corrupted by heathen ideas and the old 
superstitions of idolatry, and more confused by 
the subtilties of Christian writers and the abuses 
of sacerdotal egotism. In order to gain over the 
heathens to Christian worship, they endowed it 
with greater magnificence than had ever attended 
the heathen worship of idols. They took less 
pains to gain the heart and conscience by religious 
truths, than to captivate the senses and to dazzle 
and fascinate the eye and the ear. Less attention 
was paid to the propagation of the spirit of Chris- 
tianity than to the multiplication of proselytes, and 
thus more and more of the pagan ceremonies, and 
even sacrifices for the dead, were introduced and 
adopted. 

In such manner the triumph of the Christian 
church was not the triumph of faith ; the victory 
of the church was not the victory of Christianity, 
for the religious sects, always disputing together, 
regarded each other with a hate even deeper than 
that they bore to the heathens. At the period when 
Constantine came forward, and strengthened and 
supported the faith with his imperial power, the 
chief sect, which contained in itself the greatest 
number of communities, and possessed at the 
imperial court the most powerful patrons, took 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 55 

to itself the title of the supreme and reigning 
church, and condemned all the rest. Whoever, 
therefore, refused to submit to the doctrines and 
discipline of this church, were rejected from the 
community as heretics and apostates. It assumed 
the name of the only existing orthodox church, 
and it soon became an adopted principle, that 
beyond the pale of this church there was no salva- 
tion, and that it alone possessed the power of 
redemption. Thus was established, on the one 
hand, the unity of the Catholic or universal 
church, and on the other was founded an eternal 
wall of separation between itself and all other 
Christian churches, which held themselves to be, 
nevertheless, in possession of the true faith and 
salvation. 

The Christian priesthood, however, henceforth 
gained considerably in power, honours, and riches, 
as soon as Christianity became the religion of the 
state. Formerly, there had not prevailed among 
themselves any great difference in rank ; the most 
virtuous and wise were the most esteemed and 
honoured. Subsequently, the number of Christian 
communities having become augmented, one of the 
priests was appointed inspector, or bishop, over a 
certain number of their body, and received at the 
same time certain privileges, to enable him to 
fulfil the duties of his office with more efficacy. 



56 THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 

Those that dwelt in large and opulent towns, 
could calculate upon larger contributions from the 
hands of the faithful. Very soon, however, the 
bishops arrogated to themselves greater power, 
and set themselves up in their meetings as the 
only and exclusive legislators of the church. 
Equality soon vanished from among them, and 
ecclesiastical pride, or obsequious flattery, soon 
invented fresh and more imposing titles. Arch- 
bishops were now appointed, whose authority 
extended over the bishops ; and then were elected 
patriarchs, to whom the archbishops themselves 
became subservient, whose number was in propor- 
tion to the number of the principal towns of the 
empire. They presided and pronounced judgment 
upon all ecclesiastical affairs, and the spiritual was 
united with the temporal power. There were 
patriarchs at Jerusalem and Antioch, Alexandria, 
Constantinople, and Rome. The simple humility 
of the apostles disappeared, and the successors of 
Jesus Christ, yielding to the sway of their worldly 
passions, made themselves princes of the earth. 

Until the period of Constantine, the first Chris- 
tian emperor, Rome had been the capital of the 
empire. He, however, built a new metropolis 
more closely approximating to the oriental world, 
which he called after his own name. Neverthe- 
less, Rome continued to maintain the character it 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 0/ 

had held for a thousand years. Thence it was 
that in a short time the patriarch of Rome, as well 
as the patriarch of Constantinople, strove to esta- 
blish a pre-eminence above all the other patriarchs, 
in which they were assisted by the emperors and 
their chief counsellors, as well as by the ignorance 
of the age. The Christians, converted from their 
Paganism, still imbued with gross material ideas, 
worshipped the saints as gods, bestowing on their 
priests and their leaders the most blind and super- 
stitious veneration. This feeling they now trans- 
ferred to the archbishops and patriarchs. None 
could deny that the unity of the Christian church 
required the unity of the ecclesiastical head. To 
this end the patriarch of Rome made the first 
attempt. Peter was proclaimed the prince of the 
apostles ; it was declared that at Pome he had 
himself been doctor and bishop of the primitive 
Christians ; that the subsequent bishops of that 
city were the successors of Peter; and that, in con- 
sequence, a bishop, a patriarch of Pome, ought, 
with the office of that great apostle, to inherit his 
jurisdiction and influence, and be the chief and 
father, or pope of Christianity. Thence arose a 
long dispute between the patriarch of the east and 
the patriarch of the west, and thus was produced 
the schism which still exists between the Greek 
and the Roman church. 



58 THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 

Such was the form assumed by the Christian 
church after its triumph. If we do not confound 
this church with the faith revealed by Jesus, but 
regard it as the external relation of the Christian 
belief with the world, the form it has taken will 
neither shock nor surprise us, when we take into 
consideration the barbarous state of that period. 
Had the faith remained simple and pure in the 
bosom of the church, it would be of little import 
whether this heavenly fruit were presented in a 
vessel of wood or gold. When the breast of man 
contains a heart which beats with true piety, what 
matter is it whether that breast be covered with 
rags or purple and silk cloth ? It is through a 
false zeal that we blame the splendour of the 
ceremonies of worship; this splendour has often 
been of service in awakening noble sentiments in 
vulgar souls. Why should we upbraid pious kings 
and princes because they clothe themselves splen- 
didly, and are surrounded by earthly grandeur, 
instead of presenting an appearance of indigence ? 
Without the unity of the imposing power of the 
church, Christianity would certainly have become 
entirely degenerated in the later ages of universal 
barbarity. But this tie riveted still closer the 
bond of union in the last remnants of Christianity. 
The temporal authority of the spiritual head served 
as a counterpoise against the tyranny of the savage 



THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 59 

and cruel princes who subsequently appeared, and 
checked their despotism. The unity of the church, 
and the influence of its spiritual head, assisted 
not a little to protect the sciences, which were 
all but annihilated, and to unite together the war- 
like and hostile nations. This unity contributed 
towards the preservation of the liberty of Europe, 
and greatly aided in preventing this portion of 
the world from sinking into the state of supersti- 
tion and slavery under which, even to the present 
day, the majority of the nations in the East are still 
groaning. Everything is useful and salutary in its 
proper time. Short-sighted man may perhaps find 
cause to lament and deplore many things which to 
him individually seem monstrous evils for the 
moment ; but if they are considered in connexion 
with the whole together, they will appear indis- 
pensable and salutary, and command the respect 
and admiration of the more wise and rational 
amongst mankind, as the dispensations of Divine 
Providence. 

The triumph of the Christian religion over 
innumerable persecutors was not accomplished, it 
is- true, without prejudice to the cause of the true 
faith. But in granting that thousands of heathens 
have remained heathens, even after baptism and 
under the cross itself, adhering still to all that 
is sensual, we must nevertheless acknowledge, on 



60 THE TRIUMPH OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION. 

the other hand, that at least entire nations have 
been led also to the path of true salvation, if not 
to their own profit, yet for the eventual happiness 
of their descendants. If we confess that Christen- 
dom in general received, instead of Christianity, 
only superstition and ceremony, we cannot deny 
that amongst these millions of apparent Christians, 
thousands of true and pious men have followed 
the path of piety in silence, and have invoked their 
Heavenly Father in spirit and in truth : and let it 
suffice that this venerated body have passed on 
before us with their virtues ! Their mortal elements 
have fallen into dust in the course of centuries, 
but their sacred light shines forth with renewed 
lustre, and we who live at this hour enjoy its 
beams in all their brilliancy. 

Thus was accomplished for us also what Jesus 
promised to his disciples : u Fear not, little flock, 
for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you 
the kingdom." — Amen. 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 



Ephesians, v. 15 — 21. 
" See then that ye walk circumspectly, cot as fools, but as wise, 
redeeming the time, because the days are evil ; therefore be ye 
not unwise, but understanding what the will of the Lord is. And 
be not drunk with wine, wherein is excess ; but be filled with the 
Spirit; speaking to yourselves in psalms, and hymns, and spiritual 
songe, singing and making melody in your heart to the Lord : 
giving thanks always for all things unto God and the Father in 
the name of our Lord Jesus Christ ; submitting yourselves one to 
another in the fear of God." 

How sublime and affecting is the contemplation of 
the scene in which a pious family is engaged in 
offering up unitedly their thoughts and feelings to 
the most holy and exalted Being — to the Almighty! 
What man is he whose soul would not be moved 
at witnessing the soft tears of maternal affection 
roll down the cheeks of the mother when praying 
for. the life, the health, and the well-being of her 
cherished and fondly beloved children? Who 
could behold with indifference a venerable father, 
surrounded by all the members of his household, 
and with uncovered head, beseeching for his family, 



62 DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 

blessings from the King of kings, the Arbiter of 
our destinies ? Where is the man whose heart is 
not affected, when he beholds a child, blooming in 
all the grace of innocence, lift up its little hands 
towards its invisible Father, and stammer forth its 
juvenile appeal in favour of its parents, its brothers 
and sisters, and the companions of its pastimes ? 

In former times — it is not to be denied — when 
the customs of the people were more simple, there 
prevailed in the palaces of princes, as well as in 
the more humble establishments of the subjects, 
the practice of domestic worship, which in our 
days has become more limited and weakened ; but 
it must also be admitted, that in those times there 
reigned amongst families an energy, a generosity, 
and an uprightness, which have now nearly entirely 
vanished : there was less dissipation of life in vain 
amusements ; cunning and egotism were more 
rarely known ; whilst there existed more domestic 
peace, serenity of soul, and more courage of devo- 
tion for grand and useful enterprises. 

A so-termed refinement of manners has caused 
the former feeling of piety to disappear from the 
bosom of many families : and for the real and 
honest enjoyments of life, have been substituted 
frivolous and noisy distractions. A happiness has 
been sought externally, which it has not been 
possible to preserve internally. By a senseless 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 63 

weakness, endeavours have been made to exhibit 
a certain force of spirit, in disdaining to profess, 
at least publicly, religious feelings. Dissipated or 
indecent assemblies have been attended without 
any reluctance, whilst a secret fear restrained 
from entering the temple of God ; immoral works 
dedicated to corruption have been studied with 
delight, whilst a blush would have been produced 
at being found reading a book of devotion or 
morality, or even the holy Scriptures themselves. 
Insensibly, many men have degraded their mind 
whilst thinking to ennoble it; anxious to attach 
themselves to the Great (according to the world's 
estimation thereof), they neglected to draw near 
to the Creator of the universe ; they have shared 
in the enjoyments of the animal without reason, 
forgetting that man, a citizen of the world of 
mind, can only elevate himself by his union with 
God, who is the greatest of all spirits. 

Thus, the levity and immorality of many 
fathers, the often blind folly of many mothers, 
have destroyed the happiness, peace, and pros- 
perity of a great number of respectable family 
circles. Many among them, made prudent by 
such experience, will doubtless return to the 
simple life of their ancestors : may they also 
imitate them in their virtues ! Then again may 
be introduced into the bosom of their homes that 



64 DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 

family worship, forgotten by so many, which is 
the source of domestic happiness, of consolation 
in affliction, and of the peace of soul in the 
accomplishment of the daily duties of life. 

Public worship is, without doubt, of very great 
importance ; but it easily degenerates into a vain 
routine and mere matter of business, because 
amidst the many distractions of daily life, the zeal 
of the heart becomes cooled, when the mind is no 
longer occupied with the Supreme Being beyond 
the walls of the temple. The delightful impres- 
sions with which we are inspired by a Divine 
word are, alas ! but too speedily and too easily 
effaced. We forget, with a levity which strikes 
even ourselves with astonishment, the most sacred 
vows, and the most sincere tears of repentance, 
when from the house of God we return to the 
sphere of our daily engagements, as to quite 
another world, and throughout the whole of 
another week, we neither remember, nor desire 
to remember or dwell upon, our repentance and 
our resolutions. And are we then only Christians 
on a Sunday ? Is not every day in the week a 
day of the Lord, a solemn day ? 

Nevertheless, while we advocate domestic wor- 
ship, we desire to prevent all misunderstanding 
and false interpretation. We are far from recom- 
mending that it should . consist in meetings more 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 65 

or less numerous, of different individuals and 
families, having for their object of assemblage 
the celebration together of private worship. For 
although such meetings present nothing at all that 
is blameable in themselves, still there may result 
therefrom, to society, consequences of much evil 
tendency, which in his station as citizen, the 
disciple of Christ ought to avoid and prevent. 

The Christian must respect the order established 
in civil life ; he must respect the opinion and sen- 
timents of those with whom the ties of society unite 
him. Men, even the most rude and uncultivated, 
are never offended at homage offered to the Deity; 
but they may be so at the manner in which it is 
practised. To desire to excite attention and become 
distinguished in this respect, is often productive of 
murmurs, and even suspicion. Christian devotion 
does not display itself before the eyes of the whole 
world, but retires in solitude to the obscurity of 
the temple; whilst the Pharisee, standing at the 
corner of the street, is seen by all men. — (Matthew, 
vi. 6.) 

But, on the other hand, how charming, innocent, 
and pure, is daily worship in the limited and con- 
fidential circle of an individual family ! There, the 
father and mother become in a manner the minis- 
ters of the Most High ; and the retired and obscure 
chamber wherein we receive the benefits of our 



66 DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 

Heavenly Father — that spot which witnesses our 
moments of sorrow and our joy : where wi i::pe- 

rience the alternation of health and sickness, and 
where, perhaps, we may be placed upon our I e 1 
of death — becomes transformed into the temple :: 
the Lord. 

There we find assembled^ after the refreshing 
rest of night, the small society, united by the b :red 
ties of blood. In the golden hour of morn, the 
same circle pronounces a gentle prayer of thanks- 
giving towards the throne of eternal goodness ; 
and in the evening, it again meets together, happy 
from the labours of the day and at the repose about 
to be enjoyed — its last contemplations directed 
towards the Sovereign Protector of mankind. And 
while, amid the profound darkness of the heavens, 
and in the immeasurable expanse of sp. :e. Thou- 
sands of stars proclaim the power of God; while, 
perhaps, thousands of worlds unknown to us. cele- 
brate the glory of His name, our prayer ascends 
likewise through the silent night to Him. and He 
hears and receives it. 

These hours consecrated to devotion Exercise 
their influence, also, upon the infant itself which 
witnesses them. As yet. that child knows ; : nc 
other superior being beyond its parents, and it 
beholds them filled with veneration and humility 
at the single name of the invisible God. It feels 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 67 

penetrated with the same respect ; and the force 
of example fills its young soul with sentiments of 
religion, before even its reason is capable of giving 
an account of the emotions of its heart. Let it, 
therefore, be an important object, to accustom a 
child, from the most tender age, to a humble and 
reverential attitude during prayer, that sublime 
communion with God, the Creator and Preserver 
of all that breathes. The child may not, perhaps, 
as yet, comprehend the sense and meaning of the 
prayer ; but it will understand the feeling which is 
expressed by the humble look, the clasped hands, 
and pious meditation. It is only by external signs 
and the senses, that the mind of the child receives 
the first impressions. It will thus already be 
acquainted with the sweet feeling of love to God, 
when, at the age of awakened reason, you shall 
instruct it in the foundations and importance of the 
religion of Jesus Christ 

In order that prayer may operate efficaciously 
upon the soul, we should abstain from repeating 
each day the same words. It ought never to 
become a mere routine matter of exercise, but it 
should spring from the heart, and proceed from 
the mind. The mouth can repeat without trouble, 
and without any participation with the spirit, 
formula which custom has engraven upon the 
memory. 



68 DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 

To address a prayer to God without thinking of 
Him, is only to insult Him. Devotion is nothing 
when the mind is occupied elsewhere, and distrac- 
tion overcomes the soul, in spite of itself, each time 
that reflection is not brought into play. A simple 
thought addressed to God from the depth of the 
soul, an inaudible sigh or an emotion of the heart, 
is far beyond the most eloquent prayer pronounced 
by the lips. 

If the father or the mother is not always in a 
situation, or in a disposition to utter a prayer analo- 
gous to the occasion, there are many books of worship, 
written by distinguished pious men, eminent for 
their talent, from which a choice may be made. 
They second and fortify our devotion by the beauty 
of their thoughts ; and their sentiments and reflec- 
tions become our own. The prayer made in com- 
mon amongst the members of a family, is preserved 
for a long time afterwards in the soul, like celestial 
harmony. Left alone to ourselves, we also address, 
in the silence of our retreat, our secret prayers to 
that God who knows the condition and the wants 
of our heart. 

Therefore, it is a noble duty for pious mothers to 
teach in good time their children to form, without 
study and restraint, a short prayer, in invoking 
their Father, who is in heaven ; and not to allow 
the prayer of childhood, the expression of its own 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 69 

sentiments, to be learned from memory. What 
can be more touching for a mother, or a father, 
than to hear their child, before it sinks into its 
happy slumbers, murmur in sweet accents its sim- 
ple petition, addressed to God, and repeat to its 
invisible friend and guardian a few words which 
come from the heart ! 

But the domestic devotion of Christian families 
is not confined to the single duty of prayer ; there 
are a thousand opportunities presented to practise 
this worship with touching simplicity. It is not 
necessary to have continually and at every moment, 
the name of God in our mouth. To be incessantly 
repeating "Lord ! Lord ! " may become an injurious 
habit. When in action, let us be fervent in spirit, 
entirely devoted to our work, our occupations, our 
duties, at home as well as abroad ; but in praying, 
let us give ourselves wholly to prayer. The 
human mind is too limited ; it cannot multiply 
itself, and if pre-occupied with temporal cares, it 
cannot dedicate itself all at once to the interests of 
another world. 

To be always pronouncing, without intermis- 
sion, the name of God, is in a manner profaning 
it. Christians, endowed with tender and delicate 
feelings, imitate, in this respect, the Jews, by 
whom the name of Jevovah was held to be so 
sacred, that they feared to degrade it in pro- 



70 DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 

nouneing it too often. Instead of naming God. 
let us praise Providence and Nature : for what 
do we understand by these words, if it be not the 
Author of Nature. — Him whose providence go- 
verns the universe ? 

When the hollow notes of the funeral knell 
echo forth, and announce to our ear the departed 
spirit of a friend and neighbour, and the mourning 
train pass before us. bearing the last remains to 
their final place of rest, the pious husband and 
his faithful companion of life, moved by a melan- 
choly foreboding, press each other's hand: they 
are penetrated by the thought of eternity, and 
they are by that united more firmly to each other. 
Their faith, their hope, is directed towards Him 
who watches over man : and this is an act of 
domestic worship ! 

The spring bestrews the earth with all its 
thousands of variegated blossoms : the lark chants 
its lay as it soars beyond the clouds : the night- 
ingale sends forth its notes from the bush : and a 
wondrous illumination lights up the whole sur- 
rounding scenery of hill and dale. Filled with 
holy enthusiasm, the father explains to his son 
the miracles of the creation : he shews and points 
out to him the traces of sovereign wisdom in 
the order of nature, regulated by infinite goodness. 
At the view of these miracles, a holy joy fills their 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 71 

souls, moved by the works of the Almighty ; and 
this is also an example of domestic devotion ! 

Every family has hours of leisure, when all the 
members of which it is composed are found united 
together. Doubtless, it is agreeable to sweeten 
these hours by those entertainments proper to re- 
fresh and relax the mind ; but it is also delightful 
to sanctify them by thoughts and meditations more 
serious and elevated. Therefore, they read a work 
of devotion, a moral sermon, a book written for 
the improvement of the mind and heart; some 
select passages from the Bible, easy to be compre- 
hended, — the psalms of the prophet, or the life of 
our Saviour. The attentive family surround the 
reader ; their hearts become moved ; reason be- 
comes enlightened ; virtue appears in all its beauty, 
and vice in all its deformity ; we become better ; 
the soul approaches the Deity; — and here, also, 
is domestic worship ! 

These few examples shew how numerous are 
the opportunities to practise family worship ; but, 
therefore, it is not necessary to constantly exhort, 
instruct, encourage to do good, and edify at every 
moment ; for uniformity and excess may render 
troublesome and inconvenient the lessons of piety. 
No, ye fathers and mothers ! and all ye who wish 
to propagate with gain the religion and love of 
God, the most beautiful lesson, and the most effi- 



72 DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 

cacious instruction at every hour, is — your own 
life. Your example will be more powerful than 
your precepts, and your actions will produce 
more fruit than your doctrine. 

An affectionate father, ever active, and a friend 
of order; a tender, careful, economical, and amiable 
mother ; obedient and noble-minded children ; 
industrious and faithful servants : these are a con- 
tinual offering to God. Their conduct, constantly 
honest and sincere, is a fruit of the love of God 
whom they nourish in their heart. Their life is 
the faithful mirror in which is reflected the piety 
of their souls. "Whilst the tumult of the world 
soon destroys, for the most part, the holy inten- 
tions which public worship may have given birth 
to on the Sunday, they are more frequently 
nourished with love in the retirement of the 
domestic sanctuary. Whilst we frequently forget, 
with inconceivable levity, the grand resolutions 
and the generous designs formed publicly in the 
time of misfortune, domestic worship entertains 
them nearly always in all their vigour, 

Private devotion exerts upon our souls a tender 
and powerful influence, and it places us in the right 
point of view whence we ought to consider the 
world. By it our terrestrial existence is placed 
in its true light ; the occurrences and the events 
of life are placed in connection with the hopes of 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 73 

eternity ; and when we approach God., it is not as 
strangers, but as children accustomed to live with 
their father. 

Through the influence of the worship offered 
up to the Divinity in the bosom of our family, or 
in solitude, we become always more firm and more 
devoted to good. With a more noble conduct, we 
occupy ourselves more constantly with the happi- 
ness of others ; we look as if into a heaven in the 
bosom of domestic peace : and we avoid, with more 
care, all those improprieties committed through 
forgetfulness of the duties of man towards the All 
Holy. A calm and irreproachable conscience sheds 
serenity over the mind ; and the pleasure of exist- 
ence is rendered more lively, because it is made pure. 

Yes, my God, my Father, my all, I appreciate 
fully the happiness of not being like a stranger 
in Thy presence ; and I should be unworthy to 
live if I allowed a single day to pass away without 
thinking of Thee. Thy Son, Jesus Christ, prayed 
not only in the Temple ; he prayed in the dwelling 
of his friends and in the retreat of Gethsemane. 
And I, also, the child of Thy love, will invoke 
Thee in my dwelling, in the solitude of the fields, 
far from my home and from my native land. Thy 
holy presence shall transform my retreat into a 
sanctuary, wherein I may worship Thee in spirit 
and in truth. 



74 DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 

The spirit of sanctity purifies all. There, where 
Thou art, all that is not pure must disappear. 
Thou dwellest with me, and will not the serenity 
of heavenly peace reign in , my house ? Could I 
desecrate by sin the peaceful chamber in which I 
have so often invoked Thee with ardour ? Could 
I curse the spot in which I have implored Thy 
blessing ? Could fraud and falsehood profane the 
spot on which I have so many times presented my- 
self before the Judge of my thoughts ? Witness 
of my ardent prayers, shall this spot be also witness 
of my hatred, of my envy, and evil passions ? 

No, no, O my Heavenly Father ! whither should 
I turn my trembling looks, or my sorrowful and 
shame-struck heart, if in my own abode, in the 
most retired spot of my own dwelling, I should 
have to blush in Thy presence ? In what spot of 
the earth should I find happiness, if my sins and 
my conscience should transform into a hell the home 
in which I ought to find a heaven ? 

I know Thy blessings, the fruit of domestic 
devotion, and I will try to participate in them, and 
cause them to fall upon my own home. May my 
heart always belong to God, and God will always 
be my God. 

Awake or asleep, Thou art ever present to my 
mind. And when once, sooner or later, in this 
dwelling in which I so often approach Thee by 



DOMESTIC WORSHIP. 75 

prayer, I shall fall asleep in Thy arms, Father of 
Love ! Thou shalt be my ending thought ; and in 
those new heavens, in that more delightful life, 
where my soul shall again awake from the sleep of 
the tomb, my first thought shall be on Thee. There, 
when a new world shall shed around me its splen- 
dour and glory, my God will not be to me an 
unknown God ; for here it is, in His arms, that I 
sink into sleep, and it is there, in His arms, that I 
shall awake. That tender Father, who protects 
my soul during this short life, will be still my 
Father in eternity. — Amen. 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 



St. Matthew, v. 44 — 48. 
"But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, 
do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despite- 
fully use you, and persecute you ; that ye may be the children of 
your Father which is in heaven : for he maketh his sun to rise 
on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on 
the unjust. For if ye love them which love you, what reward 
have ye % Do not even the publicans the same \ And if ye 
salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others ? Do 
not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as 
your Father which is in heaven is perfect.' ' 

Too often, alas! have I been forced to witness 
man in his degradation ; but when have I beheld 
him in all his noble greatness ? Too often have I 
seen him abandon himself to a sensual and material 
life, occupied alone in studying how to gain his 
subsistence by labour, to possess more temporal 
riches, and clothe himself more sumptuously than 
his neighbour. I have observed him place the 
dependence of his joy and delight, either in the 
vain and arrogant opinion he has formed of him- 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 77 

self, in the splendour and prodigality displayed in 
his entertainments, or in the exercise of power 
and authority over his inferiors. I have seen him 
unceasingly engaged in improving his external 
state, and scarcely deigning to bestow a thought 
upon the moral amelioration of his soul, as if it 
was merely an object of secondary consideration. 
I have beheld him cultivating his mind with the 
object of acquiring talents which might place 
him in a position to pursue his career in the 
world with skill and dexterity, as if God had not 
endowed his soul with so many noble and elevated 
faculties for any other purpose but merely that he 
might become the most cunning and crafty, but 
also the most dangerous of beings. I have seen 
him yield himself a slave to his humour and 
passion, as if it were honourable never to conquer 
and overcome his desires and inclinations, but to 
resemble and bring himself as nearly as possible 
upon a level with the brute creation, insensible 
alike to reason and persuasion. I have certainly 
seen him profess a religion, not from any desire of 
the heart, but merely in order to conform to rule 
and custom, as if it were sufficient to follow and 
imitate the ceremonies pursued by habit, to en- 
sure the approbation of the ruler of the world, the 
sovereign judge and arbitrator of our destiny. In 
fine, I have beheld him convert the religion of 



78 CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 

Jesus Christ into a mantle of honour in order to 
cover his vices, and as a foundation upon which to 
support his upbraiding conscience, in depending 
upon the merits of our Saviour, and calculating 
that the sacrifice offered for the expiation of sin. 
is sufficient to secure and preserve him from 
condemnation. 

Alas ! into how low a state of degradation does 
man sink ! He carries within him an unquench- 
able desire and longing after happiness ; and yet, 
notwithstanding, he is never happy., because he 
precipitates himself into the abyss, as if impelled 
forward by some invisible power. Ah ! truly it 
is by an invisible power ; for it is the force of his 
passions which drag him on, and which for ever 
destroy the peace and happiness of the soul. 

"Where then shall we find the man who presents 
himself as such in all his greatness, and such as he 
has been formed in the image of God ? Is it the 
christian, who, always observing his own acts, is 
cautious not to commit sin, and struggles with the 
emotions of his heart, to which he will not allow 
himself to yield, as is done by the majority of men? 

We ought, without doubt, to show respect to 
that man who is sufficiently wise not to submit to 
the dominion of his passions, nor to make himself 
dependent upon ambition, vanity, voluptuousness, 
nor angry excitement ; ,such a man is free even in 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 79 

slavery, and is a monarch, surrounded by servants 
who revere him for his dignity. He is respected, 
because no external power can make him yield ; 
his character is not changed by prosperity, neither 
is he cast down in adversity. He himself remains 
unshaken amidst all the storms around him, but 
causes others to yield to him, because he is able to 
overcome his emotions, and' the desires of his 
heart, so that they exercise no influence whatever 
upon his resolutions. He is more worthy of 
admiration than even the conqueror, who by the 
aid of subject nations, overcomes other nations, 
but cannot triumph over himself; he is more wor- 
thy of admiration than the most distinguished men 
of science, art, and learning, whose productions are 
proclaimed to be marvellous, but who are not able 
to produce and establish within their own breast 
that harmony and concord so much esteemed in 
all their masterpieces. 

But is self-command the last and highest degree 
of perfection to be attained by man ? 

If such was indeed the case, Jesus, who en- 
lightened the world with his divine word, would 
neither have preached nor taught a superior doc- 
trine to what had been already introduced by the 
sages of antiquity. Before Christ appeared in the 
world, the most virtuous and enlightened men 
had shown that self-knowledge and self-command 



80 CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 

were the true means of attaining to the highest 
degree of human dignity. And further, they had 
in their own life given the most striking and con- 
vincing example of this knowledge and command: 
they had proved that it was by no means an 
imaginary dignity that it was in the power of man 
to obtain. Their life accorded with their doctrine: 
and even at the present day, the names of those 
generous mortals are honoured and venerated by 
the world. Such was their conduct. ye back- 
ward and. unwilling Christians, who fear to per- 
form these sacred duties ! — such was their course 
of life: and yet Jesus had not yet appeared to 
them; they only cherished an uncertain hope — 
they only felt a vague fear for that eternity and 
judgment, of which the certainty established by 
divine revelation opens to us a prospect pro- 
ducing equal delight and awe. Yes. such was 
their life, Christians : and yet these men were 
only heathens ! 

But Jesus appeared in the world in all the 
splendour of celestial wisdom : and he desired and 
demanded more. 

He also commanded that each should examine 
himself; and, to avoid sin, it is indeed but too 
necessary to know ones-self. He also desired that 
man should vanquish himself in overcoming his 
inclinations ; for he that. is incapable of surmount- 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 81 

ing them becomes subject to thein, and excludes 
himself from the number of the disciples of Jesus 
Christ. But these duties were performed equally 
by the Pagans. They spared their enemies, 
worked for the happiness of their friends, hated 
the excesses of ambition, intemperance, and dis- 
sipation ; they despised the pride of riches, the 
insatiableness of avarice, and the shameful con- 
sequences of egotism. But all these virtues 
together were still not Christian virtue. 

Jesus has demanded more from man. He 
wishes they should become the resemblance of 
the Divinity; he desires a greatness of soul as 
extensive as it is in the nature of mortal to feel ; 
in His eyes, it is not enough not to hate your 
enemy, for he says : " Love your enemies, bless 
them that curse you, do good to them that hate 
you, and pray for them which despitefully use you 
and persecute you, that ye may be the children of 
your Father which is in heaven ; for he maketh 
his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and 
sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust. For 
if ye love them which love you, what reward have 
ye I Do not even the publicans the same? And 
if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more 
than others ? Do not even the publicans so ? Be 
ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is 
in heaven is perfect." 



82 CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 

This is the elevation of soul which the Divine 
Instructor demands of us. It is not enough that 
we subdue and overcome ourselves, so that our 
inclinations lead us not astray to commit any im- 
proper act ; we ought, as far as it depends upon 
our own faculties, to disseminate good around us. 
It is not being sufficiently virtuous, not to neglect 
nor violate any duty : virtue requires that, without 
regard to external considerations, and without any 
interested motive, and without exception of per- 
sons, we should labour for the general happiness 
of all, even for the happiness of our enemies. 

Such is the greatness of mind required by 
Christianity : such is the highest degree of human 
perfection. The truly wise man— a name which 
can only be given to the holy imitator of Jesus — 
feels himself above the artifices, intrigues, and 
passions of life : whilst others only seek to satisfy 
their egotism, he only aspires to do good to all 
around him. Insensible to all offence and enmity, 
he will not allow himself to be influenced by 
either, nor prevented from doing good to those 
that hate him : his revenge is pardon and oblivion. 
He holds in disdain the miserable ambition of 
vulgar mortals, who busy themselves all their 
life with seeking their sovereign happiness in the 
pleasures of the senses and vanity. For him, 
the sovereign good is to, be one with God, Always 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 83 

in command of himself, in order to preserve his 
heart pure and without reproach, he feels no 
hatred towards sinners ; he regards them as suf- 
fering patients, whose body oppresses and governs 
the soul : he considers them as insane mortals, 
whose erring minds suggest to them a false good 
as their aim, or select a false means for attaining 
a praiseworthy and useful object. Instead of 
hating, he pities them ; and he labours to enlighten 
them in diminishing the evils of error and 
ignorance. His heart is inaccessible to all the 
vulgar inclinations and desires of egotism and 
self-interest ; if he seeks to surpass other men in 
dignity, it is by no means through any wish to 
make himself a person of greater consideration ; 
this would not be aspiring to true greatness. He 
desires to effect good, but not with the view of a 
recompense ; for if he desired and demanded any 
reward, his virtue would no longer remain virtue, 
but would be transformed into selfishness and 
mercenary calculation. He loves virtue, because 
it is divine; he aspires to perfection, because his 
heavenly Father is perfect. He desires to become 
one with God, because his soul has emanated 
from God, and because it wishes to return to the 
original source from which it sprung. 

This is the real and true greatness of mind 
which Jesus demands from those that imitate him. 



84 CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 

Benevolence and charity are the essence of that 
virtue which covers itself with a veil of modesty. 
Aspiring to all that is most exalted, it scorns all 
that is but dust and must return to dust. Immor- 
tality is its native sphere ; and it only regards the 
life of this world as a preparation for eternity. It 
respects all human institutions and social order, as 
a means of happiness ; but truth, justice, and bene- 
volence are, in the eyes of the true Christian, above 
all institutions. Too often, men, blinded by the 
renown of their own works, lose sight of the real 
but distant object of virtue. God is everything 
for virtue in this world, because God is in all, 
and virtue itself is in him. It loves life, because 
life is an existence in God; but it fears not death, 
because death is only a modification of existence. 
Such, O divine Jesus, is thy religion — the reli- 
gion thou hast revealed to us ; this is that great- 
ness of soul which is the fruit of Christianity. 
But, alas! what am I myself? Have I, up to 
this moment, been a true Christian ? What have 
been my sentiments? Are they really those of 
Christianity ? Alas ! weak and timi'd, I have 
wavered between vice and virtue, between no- 
thing and reality. O Jesus, thy word comes 
like a ray of divine light upon my soul; and 
I discover, at length, all the truth and meaning 
of that sublime thought: "Be ye therefore per- 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 85 

feet, even as your Father which is in heaven is 
perfect. 5 ' 

Thus, then, greatness of mind, with Christians, 
does not consist merely in the neglect and sub- 
duing of the body, in the complete mortification 
and decay of all desires and all the enjoyments of 
life. Xo, this body is the instrument God has given 
me to render my activity useful to the world ; he 
will not permit me either to treat it with contempt 
or neglect ; for thus I should deprive my soul of 
an important means, given to it by God himself 
in order to make it perfect. But, on the other 
hand, I must not treat or view it beyond its nature 
as a simple instrument. When I have provided for 
the health, strength, and activity of the body, then 
I have done everything I am bound to perform. 
Its external beauty and outward ornaments are 
only secondary objects, to which I muct not attach 
too high a price, nor, above all, sacrifice its vigour. 
But that which directs the instrument is more im- 
portant than the instrument itself ; and it is the 
soul that governs the body, and that joyfully em- 
ploys it for the noble object of general utility; no 
corporeal pain can check the progress of the great 
soul of the Christian when the object is con- 
tributing to the happiness of humanity, or defend- 
ing and preserving its most precious possessions — 
faith, innocence, truth, and justice. 



86 CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 

Greatness of mind in the Christian does not 
consist, therefore, in proudly disdaining all the 
enjoyments of life : but these enjoyments are only 
the means of restoring his body and refreshing his 
necessary strength for useful labour. He seeks 
not to pursue continually the pleasures of the 
senses : on the contrary, he never permits a day 
to pass without doing some good act. He sacri- 
fices, if necessary, all his pleasures for one cha- 
ritable deed : and he will even gladly endure 
suffering and deprivation, if they procure him the 
means of making others happy. 

Riches j honours, and rank are not; in his 
eyes, objects of contempt : but they are still less 
objects worthy of his especial desires and soli- 
citude. Such valuable and imposing possessions, 
so much idolised by man. can neither augment 
the happiness of a wise Christian when they 
fall to his share, nor diminish it when they 
may be taken from him. In his eyes, they are 
only regarded as auxiliary means of greater ac- 
tivity in the cause of benevolence and charity. 
He knows too well, that high dignities are pre- 
carious, testimonials of consideration are equi- 
vocal, and that all the gold of the world cannot 
procure or ensure to the soul lasting and durable 
happiness. He is always ready to renounce all 
personal advantage for the interest of his fellow- 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 87 

creatures and the general welfare. He is pre- 
pared, if necessary, to sacrifice all his wealth for 
the universal diminution of the sufferings of 
humanity. 

Greatness of soul in the Christian does not 
consist, certainly, in disdaining to defend his own 
rights, as well as those of his brethren, whenever 
menaced with danger. All the rights which are 
ensured to us by civil authority are the conditions 
of useful activity and the means for the exercise 
of charity. We must endeavour, by the voice of 
mildness or severity of the law, to bring back 
those to their duty who, by wickedness or error, 
threaten to deprive us of these means of doing 
good. We commonly term such our enemies; 
but the Christian has no enemy. The wise man 
may be exposed to contempt, hatred, envy, and 
persecution; but whilst even he is engaged in 
defending his rights, he still remains the friend of 
his adversary. Instead of shunning and avoiding 
him in anger and resentment, he pities him; he 
aids him when he can, and benefits him when 
opportunity presents itself; and when, eventually, 
he is forced to choose between suffering himself 
or committing an injustice, the choice is not 
difficult — he suffers ! 

It is in this spirit of unchangeable and universal 
charity, in imitation of the divine charity, that the 



88 CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 

greatness of soul in the Christian shows itself 
with the greatest effect ; he never grows cold 
through ingratitude ; his benefits are bestowed 
upon his enemies as well as his friends ; and he is 
better known and distinguished by his acts than by 
his words. At every hour, and in every occupa- 
tion, he seeks to be as perfect, and to render him- 
self as useful as his circumstances and power will 
permit ; but it is in obscurity and in secret that 
he prefers to act, rather than before the public eye : 
but neither does he avoid the observation of man, 
as soon as he believes it useful to give a virtuous 
example. 

In every situation he is placed in by Providence, 
he aspires to do that which is the most noble and 
pure. But he does not confine himself to the mere 
moral demonstration; his will is put into imme- 
diate force. He modestly conceals the good he 
performs, because in doing it he has not in view 
vain glory, and because he fears he may be praised 
for acting according to the simple duty of a 
Christian. A good action which seeks for applause 
ceases to be worthy of esteem ; virtuous souls and 
God himself must disapprove of it. The real great- 
ness of soul in the Christian can only attain its 
perfection, when, for the benefit of humanity, it 
makes every sacrifice without the knowledge of 
any other mortal. The true Christian who is con- 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 89 

scious of his infirmities, and who struggles against 
them, cannot suppose that others are without zeal 
and activity in the work of virtue ; nothing is more 
painful to his feelings than to hear himself praised 
for the accomplishment of his duties ; this sort of 
praises prove that those who pronounce them know 
not themselves how to merit them ; and how un- 
welcome must be to us the praises from such 
mouths ! 

True virtue rises above the influence of every 
terror and malediction, as it is equally superior to 
all praise. Let us not be uneasy at what may be 
thought of us, but at what we are ourselves. Our 
interests rest all in our works, and not in opinion. 
The first are dependent upon ourselves ; the last is 
the sport of circumstances. The former are in con- 
nexion with our dignity, our perfection, and our 
happiness, and constitute the true greatness of the 
mind, which is far above this transitory life which 
we must soon abandon. 

To aspire to this greatness of soul, is the object 
and aim of the children of God. To attain it, is 
by no means above human strength ; Jesus pre- 
sented an example of the greatest virtues, in order 
to show that an elevated desire cannot aspire to 
perfection in vain. Excited and inspired by his 
example, numerous Christians have marched in the 
same steps ; fortune, honour, power, affection, all 



90 CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 

the possessions of life, and life itself, have been 
sacrificed by them to justice, virtue, their country, 
and humanity generally. What they were enabled 
to do, cannot we perform also ? Heavenly Father, 
Thou that speakest to my heart, compared with 
thee, what power can the voice of men exercise 
whose sensuality or egotism treat with mad dis- 
dain such a sacrifice? If, indifferent to their 
moral perfection, they are incapable of sacrificing 
their pleasures of a day to an eternity of happiness, 
ought I to show myself the same and try to 
resemble them ? 

Jesus, thou perfect model of true greatness, and 
emblem of the perfection of spirits, — Thou through 
whom God and nature speak to my soul, — thou 
who, in Thy terrestrial life, was only one with God 
and the creation, is not Thy example the sweet 
light which should illumine and guide my steps ? 
The world of mortals who surrounded Thee, knew 
not how to recognise in Thee the power by which 
the Divinity was manifested ; they were dazzled 
and blinded by honours, by power, luxury, and 
the splendour of vanities ; but Thou didst spurn 
from before Thy feet this glittering dust ; Thou 
chosest for Thy disciples only simple men, and 
Thou only knewest the eternal relations between 
Thy Father and Thyself. 

And thus, Jesus, I will become as thyself! 



CHRISTIAN MAGNANIMITY. 91 

For if it was not intended that I should walk in 
Thy steps, why was I in my infancy consecrated 
with the holy water of baptism before Thy altar ? 
I will study Thy life and Thy doctrine. I will use 
the most strenuous efforts to ensure the liberty of 
my soul, in order to become the resemblance of the 
Divinity. Hard and difficult will be the struggle 
against my sensual desires, but Thou, O heavenly 
Father, will grant me the support, perseverance, 
and courage I require, in order that I may attain 
that greatness of mind which makes the true 
Christian. — Amen. 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 



1 Timothy, vi. 6. 

" But godliness with contentment is great gain." 

This earth is a vast garden of pleasure, strewed 
with flowers of every variety ; but there are those 
whose evil practices convert it, for them, into a 
hell of misery. Slaves to their insatiate volup- 
tuous desires, they ruin the health of their body 
and soul. Impatient of the future, and a prey to 
their avaricious hopes and expectations, they allow 
the present moment to escape, and derive no 
enjoyment even from the good they possess. 

The irrepressible desire for a better condition is, 
in a great measure, the source of all the passions 
which torment us. Thence arise the cares which 
render us insensible to the enjoyments of the 
present moment ; hence Avarice, debarring itself 
now to amass for the future ; ruinous and insa- 
tiable Sensuality, ever thirsting for still more 
exquisite pleasure ; Ambition, that enemy to 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 93 

repose, and which cannot be content with esteem 
alone ; Envy 3 always miserable at the happiness 
enjoyed by others : Calumny, the officious sister 

of Envy ; — and, in one "word, the whole multitude 
of vices of every kind. For let a man yield him- 
self the slave of one sin, and he thereby, without 
desiring or believing it, opens his soul to all others. 

Thence arise so many regrets and complaints, 
and so much lamentation and bitterness. Thence 
proceed those wailings which represent life as a 
career of suffering and a scene of sorrow ! 

The just, the wise, the Christian, trusting in 
God, and content with what the blessing of God 
has allotted to him, passes his days in happiness 
and peace. Xot for him is this life a vale of 
misery, and never does he reproach his God on 
this account. 

Very little is required for the internal happiness 
of the soul, and the only mode of attaining that 
has been shown us by Jesus Christ. Why, then, 
do we refuse to listen to His voice ? Why do we 
not take Him as our guide ? Why 3 carried away 
by our rash desires and passions, do we struggle 
against the eternal order of Nature ? 

Ought the sensual slave, who destroys his 
health by the immoderate pleasures of the table, 
by voluptuous enjoyments, or by other excesses, 
to reproach the world, or his own folly, by which 



94 THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 

he is punished ? Has he, who has never known 
how to shield his heart against the troubles and 
pains of life, and who has allowed external im- 
pressions to exercise a great influence and sway 
over his senses, the right to complain of the 
severity of his fate, and of the insensibility of 
mankind ? Why does he require that the world 
should change according to his caprice, instead of 
conforming himself to the established order of 
things, regarding men as they are, and not such 
as his imagination loves to paint them ? 

If so many evils exist under heaven, to whom 
are they to be attributed ? Are they to be im- 
puted to the Creator, whose wisdom is infinite, — 
or to man, whose ideas are so limited ? When an 
obstinate child cries with vexation, because it 
cannot obtain the object of its desires, or shows 
disdain and contempt for what is granted to it, 
which is to be condemned — the prudence of the 
parent, or the folly of the child ? 

Whatever God has done, is well done. God 
gives, and it is for you to receive with wisdom ; 
and when God refuses, it is for you to submit with 
patience. What God promises, be it your care 
to merit; and when God proposes to you an 
object, learn to employ with wisdom all your 
strength to accomplish it. 

You say, perhaps, that hitherto you have not 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 95 

been in the enjoyment of a happy destiny ; but 
review your career of life, examine your past 
conduct, and seek out the cause of your wrongs. 
Your fate has not always been such as you may 
have desired ; but have you yourself been such as 
you ought to have been I You have, perhaps, 
been ill used by men void of feeling ; but when 
you have suffered through the fulfilment of your 
duties, have you not experienced some gratifica- 
tion, even amidst all these trials ? You have, 
perhaps, been deprived of many enjoyments, and 
of many pleasures which have fallen to the share 
of others ; but have you, on the other hand, par- 
taken equally of their pains and anxieties ? Your 
fortune, perhaps, has not increased so rapidly as 
you may have wished ; but you have acquired at 
least sufficient to satisfy the necessaries of life, 
and perhaps have even been enabled to procure 
some comforts in addition. But why should you 
make your happiness depend upon a success which 
does not rely upon yourself? Why do you con- 
fide in the quicksands of human vicissitudes ? 
False friends, perhaps, may have deceived you ; 
you have found yourself mistaken and deceived 
in their sentiments and fidelity. This is truly 
grievous ; but the error was nevertheless on your 
side, for you were the dupe of your own delu- 
sion. Instead, therefore, of reproaching them and 



96 THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 

yourself, why not rather enjoy the flattering and 
delicious feeling which must proceed from the 
conviction of never having yourself deceived any 
of those who have calculated upon and confided 
in your friendship ? 

Man was created to be happy ; and he was de- 
signed to be so even upon earth, according to the 
means he possessed. Such was the will of God, 
for the infinitely good Creator can have no other 
design than good. 

Man may be happy, but only by his own will. 
For, endowed as we are with a free and moral 
will, and created after the image of God, we 
are not mere blind instruments, beings without a 
soul, and equally incapable of doing good or evil. 

In the will of each individual, therefore, is the 
principle of his own happiness. He has no true 
felicity but that which he acquires himself by his 
own strength and efforts. The happiness which 
depends upon others is neither real nor lasting ; 
for what we think they give, they only lend, and 
can easily take away again. If, instead of being 
in the power of each individual, happiness de- 
pended upon the favour of others, or upon cir- 
cumstances beyond the calculation of reason, God 
would not really have created man for happiness. 

But what constitutes- the basis of all happiness ? 
What infallible resources does man possess of 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 97 

peace and tranquillity ? how often have these 
resources been pointed out to us, but in vain ! 
And yet the secret is contained in two single 
words : be content and make others content. Make 
a fixed resolution to enjoy with the serenity of a 
pure mind the present moment, and the portion 
of happiness it presents ; and support, with the 
courage of a firm heart, the privations which your 
situation imposes upon you. 

Learn to be content with what is the will of God. 
This lesson may, perhaps, excite your astonish- 
ment ; you believe you have never murmured 
against the decrees of Providence] and you imagine 
there is nothing more easy than to submit, with a 
satisfied mind, to the wisdom and goodness of the 
Creator. But whence proceeds then your disap- 
pointment, when circumstances, not attributable 
to your own conduct, cause your affliction ? You 
say: These circumstances alone are the cause of 
my discontent : but is not God the cause thereof, 
and are they not the result of his will ? And thus, 
it is Providence you accuse in your blindness, and 
it is against God your murmurs are uttered. 
- Why are you melancholy, when death robs you 
of cherished beings ; when circumstances separate 
you from your friends ; when you feel the thorns 
of the situation in which you are placed ? Whence 
proceeds that depression, when you lose the 



98 THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 

comforts you have been in the habit of enjoying ; 
when you behold riches suddenly fall into the hands 
of those who have done nothing to merit them, and 
rank and distinction bestowed upon men whose 
claims to such honours are but trifling, whilst you 
yourself labour conscientiously and in the sweat 
of your brow, without making any progress or 
obtaining any reward ? And whom do you re- 
proach and accuse by the complaints which dis- 
content draws from you? The course of the 
world, the injustice of fortune, or of accident, as 
you term it ? But are you ignorant who it is that 
has marked out the course of chance, and the 
track of fortune ? Is it not the power of God ? 
Or, is there a power above the almighty power ? 

Be therefore content with what is ordained by 
God. Your murmurs, without changing anything 
in the natural course of things, are a blasphemy 
against the Supreme Wisdom, and are a real crime. 
If the Creator presents to others the elements of a 
different happiness ; if he offers them other advan- 
tages, more beauty, greater riches, better opportu- 
nities of being distinguished, and more powerful 
and influential connections, he has at the same 
time counterbalanced these privileges by painful 
drawbacks. It is erroneous to suppose that under 
purple and silk robes alone, the heart can be 
elate with joy ; and that tranquillity of mind and 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 99 

the purest enjoyment can alone be found in the 
gorgeous palace. There is no light without its 
shade, nor pleasure without its pain. If you were 
permitted to change your destiny with a know- 
ledge and consciousness of causes, you would 
refuse to take the place of him whom now 
you envy ; you would prefer your own lot 
to his. 

Be in one word, therefore, content with God ; 
for with this disposition you will have secured 
half your happiness. You will enjoy with grati- 
tude and with love, what is apportioned to you on 
earth. Full of confidence in the wisdom of the 
Master of the world, you will be able, undisturbed 
by inquietude and murmuring, to do without what 
you may not have received. You will bear no 
enwy to any one ; and you will smile when you 
behold the pride with which vain and \veak minds 
make a display of the advantages they fancy they 
enjoy, and which they imagine you do not possess. 
You will renounce all those impatient and bold 
desires, which deprive you of rest, without hasten- 
ing the progress of time, nor advancing your own 
future. He who nourishes the most desires in his 
heart, is the man who experiences in fact the 
greatest privations, and lives in the greatest 
poverty. The man, who, on the other hand, is 
content, is rich and happy, because he has but 



100 THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 

few wishes. " Godliness with contentment is 
great gain." 

Be content ivith yourself. By this, however, I 
do not mean, by any means, that satisfaction of 
vanity, which is always in admiration of its own 
work; and proud of its imaginary merit. Be 
content with yourself, means : Establish and pre- 
serve within yourself that moral harmony, which 
renders sentiments and language accordant with 
duty. Act in such a way as to preserve your 
self-esteem, that your conscience may justify you 
before God, as well as in your own eyes, and in 
the presence of others. In truth, we can only be 
content with ourselves as long as we have no 
reproach to make to ourselves, and as long as we 
preserve a pure heart, and the consciousness of 
wise and virtuous conduct. 

He who can live thus satisfied with himself, has 
achieved the completion of his happiness. A pro- 
found repose, unalterable serenity, and enduring 
courage in adversity, are the privilege of the 
virtuous man. Remember the delightful sensa- 
tion you experienced whenever you have done a 
good action, and of which perhaps God alone was 
the witness. Would you then have wished to 
exchange that pure pleasure of the soul, and that 
foretaste of heaven, for those earthly enjoyments 
which are created by cupidity and egotism ? Kings 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 101 

fall from their thrones ; war and dissension divide 
and ruin families and states ; calumny and hatred 
destroy the reputation and honour of high-born 
and distinguished men ; but what can remove or 
obscure that celestial serenity which virtue infuses 
into the heart of man ? 

Be content with other men. Do not expect in 
them a perfection they do not possess. Whilst 
despising their follies, their infirmities, and their 
vices, assist them, if you can, in correcting them ; 
but as regards the individuals themselves, help 
them, instead of hating them for their vices ; for 
remember that God also bears with them. Be 
content with men ; take them as they are ; and 
treat them with indulgence and prudence. If a 
prudent kindness does not correct them, you will 
never correct them by your ill-temper and mur- 
murs : on the contrary, you will render the haughty 
more proud, the obstinate more stubborn, and 
hypocrites and cheats more artful and more cunning. 
No man is completely corrupt, nor destitute of 
every good quality ; but, on the other hand, no 
man is perfect, nor exempt from all error. Learn 
to see in every individual only his estimable qua- 
lities ; you will thus learn to love him, and his 
faults will become less offensive and objectionable. 
If he sees that he obtains your esteem, and that 
you know how to appreciate him, he will then 



102 THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 

return you love for love, and he will make fresh 
efforts to maintain and strengthen the good qualities 
you have recognised in him. 

Be content with those with whom your con- 
nection obliges you to live ; do not require that all 
should share in your sentiments, that they should 
conform to your ideas, and that they should possess 
the same character and the same disposition as 
yourself. Can such an unjust and inequitable 
demand accord with the esteem you ought to have 
for yourself? If certain connections appear un- 
pleasant, endeavour to render them more agreeable 
by legitimate sacrifices, and by correcting yourself 
of your own infirmities. It is seldom that resistance 
is made to disinterestedness united with prudence. 
Finally, in case all means should prove unavailing, 
learn to do without such connections ; for the less 
dependent man is, the less subject to wants, the 
closer is he to happiness. 

Learn to be content with Providence, with your- 
self, and with all others ; but learn also to make 
others happy. For how could you enjoy happi- 
ness, if you knew a single individual whose welfare 
you have at all diminished by your own act? 
Doubtless, it is not in your power to render happy 
all those by whom you are surrounded; but at 
least it does depend upon you not to disturb the 
repose, peace, and joy, of a good man. He who 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 108 

can behold without pity those unfortunate beings 
whom he has it in his power to assist, only prepares 
for himself equal suffering, and he robs his heart 
of one of its sweetest satisfactions. The good we 
sow for others, the pleasure we procure for the 
companions of our pilgrimage through life, are for 
ourselves the germs of a happiness which we shall 
sooner or later enjoy. A good action, however 
trifling in its nature, always returns to its source, 
to recompense its author. 

Be it then my endeavour to bear privation, to 
enjoy moderately of the benefits that Thy hand, 
merciful Father, bestows upon me ; to demand no 
more than is sufficient to satisfy the necessities of 
life, and not to allow myself to be led away 
by rash desires ; and in one word, to be content 
to make others happy. If then, thou Benefactor 
of mankind, Thou shouldst bless my works, and 
reward me with more than I expected of the 
riches of this world, I will receive them with gra- 
titude from Thy paternal hand. Thou only givest 
them to me in order that I may advance my 
own well-being and the happiness of my fellow- 
creatures. 

If until now I have not known all the happiness 
I might have enjoyed, I ought not to complain of 
Thee, my heavenly Father, whose kindness fills 
both heaven and earth, but I ought to reproach 



104 



THE ART OF BEING HAPPY. 



myself for my inconstant desires, my levity, and 
my passions. Let me strive to become better, that 
my lot may be improved, and my happiness more 
complete : content with myself and those around 
me. I shall be satisfied and happy. — Amex. 



FEMALE EDUCATION. 



Proverbs, xxxi. 10, 30, 31. 
" Who can find a virtuous woman ? for her price is far above rubies. 
Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain : but a woman that feareth 
the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands : 
and let her own works praise her in the gates." 

Xever. at any former period, has education 
formed so much a subject of conversation and 
writing, nay, even of public lectures, as at the 
present moment. New educational institutions, 
and the improvement of the existing schools, are 
among the most prominent topics of discussion ; 
and this praiseworthy zeal extends its active and 
beneficial influence not less in the cause of female, 
than of male education. By an improved system 
of instruction, and a course of education more 
rigidly morale it is hoped to render the rising 
generation better than those of former times. 

The evils observed in the various methods of 
instruction, — the superfluous matter introduced. — 
the absurd manner of treatins; and guiding the 



106 FEMALE EDUCATION. 

infant mind, — all these objectionable and highly 
injurious points have exerted to serious medita- 
tions wise and enlightened philanthropists. But 
in this, as in all other cases, the warm enthusiasm 
for improvement has produced unreasonable re- 
sults that have been prejudicial to the cause. 
Some, though talented, have presumed too much 
on their genius ; and others, for the sake of the 
vain glory of adding fresh novelties to innovations, 
have fancied a multitude of insignificant trifles, or 
have rejected numerous useful and beneficial plans, 
because they possessed the disadvantage of not 
being new. Every human enterprise is imperfect 
at the commencement ; but it is a consolation to 
know, that in the end the evil cures itself, whilst 
the good lasts for ever. 

The progress of nations in experience, know- 
ledge, and science generally, has been followed, as 
an inevitable consequence, by improvement in pub- 
lic education. The period of childhood should not 
be too limited for the acquirement of so much use- 
ful information, and for the development of talents 
henceforth indispensable in civilised life ; and, on 
the other hand, it is important to treat the juvenile 
pupil with care and tenderness at that happy age, 
intended for the growth and increase of corporeal 
strength, that it may not be overburthened with 
study, or embittered by severe application. 



FEMALE EDUCATION. 107 

But the vigorous activity, the variety of mental 
and physical powers, and the store of diversified 
knowledge, which at the present day are required 
of man in every station of life, are not expected 
in woman. It is true, that now more is claimed 
from a man than in former times, because of the 
greater extension and diffusion of the arts and 
sciences, trade and commerce, and, in fact, of the 
means of living generally. Woman, however, 
remains in the same position in her relations to 
society and the world as in early times. The 
eternal laws of nature have assigned a limited 
sphere to her activity. As soon as she goes 
beyond it, she abandons her natural dignity ; she 
usurps a position in the career allotted to man. 

Nevertheless, it has been considered not less a 
duty to improve the education of females, and 
complete their instruction ; a praiseworthy object, 
without doubt, as long as the vocation assigned by 
nature to woman is not lost sight of : — the loving 
wife, the cheerful and soothing companion in life, 
the careful mother, and the first instructress of 
infancy, being the titles of the offices which pro- 
perly and naturally fall to the charge and care of 
woman. 

But the idea itself of a public institution for 
young females, implies a contradiction to the 
essential objects of their education. The sphere 



108 FEMALE EDUCATION. 

of action for man is the world, amidst the busy 
din and tumult of society, and its various grades 
and stations. The scene for the display of the 
powers and qualities of the future woman is the 
domestic hearth and family circle; — such ought to 
be the school for the young girl. 

The domestic scenes of life, however, are very 
different from those exhibited in public institu- 
tions. The first exhibit continually the union 
ordained by God of old and young, of the two 
sexes, with diversity of opinions and character : 
it is there that the young girl learns what consti- 
tute the advantages and defects in the economy of 
life ; she learns to submit to her superiors in age 
and experience, to guide the conduct of her 
juniors, to be the friend of her associates, and 
exercise authority over her subordinates. Thus 
the young female finds her proper school in the 
family circle of her home, — brothers, sisters, and 
companions. 

But far different is it in public institutions. 
Here are to be found, not parents to whom the 
heart addresses itself with confidence, but masters 
and mistresses, before whom the soul, with fear 
and trembling, disguises its true feelings, and 
retreats behind a formal delicacy, which is often 
made the principal aim of female education. All 
those numerous incidents of daily occurrence, so 



FEMALE EDUCATION. 109 

instructive in the paternal home, — those details, 
those little nothings which charm and captivate the 
heart, — are all here wanting, and are substituted 
by a cold monotony of lessons and observances ; 
the best instructors almost always remain as 
strangers in the eyes of the pupil, and the asso- 
ciates are not as the companions of home. Neither 
the father nor the mother, who are regarded with 
innate veneration, nor the younger branches of the 
family, who have such strong claims on the affec- 
tions, are to be found there. The young girl, 
away from her home, finds herself subjected to 
the authority of governesses, whom she regards, 
and accustoms herself to consider, with perhaps 
increasing prejudice ; and she meets with nume- 
rous companions, variously endowed with talents, 
and in whose society she becomes now a heedless, 
now a reserved companion, ignorant of the plea- 
sures or the pains which lend their charm to, or 
which lose their bitterness under, the paternal 
roof. 

Thus, during the most decisive years of her 
education, the young girl receives a training 
rarely necessary, and often prejudicial to her 
future course of life. She returns to the sanc^ 
tuary of her home, with a modicum of instruction, 
a tendency to disguise and conceal her feelings, a 
proficiency in the art of formality and ceremony, 



110 FEMALE EDUCATION. 

and with a taste and gift for shining in society by 
little trifling nothings. Happy is she if, in the later 
scenes of her childhood, she retains that joyful- 
ness and natural innocence, which characterised 
her earlier days ; the paternal roof must be again 
her school. But very often, alas ! it is too late, and 
she is for ever lost to the labours, every-day cares, 
pleasures, and little enjoyments of domestic life. 
She becomes a wife without having learnt the 
means to make herself the cheerful companion of 
life ; she becomes the mistress of a house, without 
having acquired the method of attending to the 
important or minor points necessary for its manage- 
ment ; she becomes eventually a mother, without 
feeling the slightest love for the fatigues and cares 
of the maternal state. 

We are in possession of a multitude of precepts 
upon the education of females ; but the most wise 
and fruitful principle of all others, is true and sin- 
cere piety. What now constitutes the perfection 
of woman, is the same as was thousands of years 
since : we trace it in her portrait drawn by Solomon 
in his Proverbs— " Her price is far above rubies. 
The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, 
so that he shall have no need of spoil. She openeth 
her mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the 
law of kindness." The wise king paints in seducing 
colours the love of neatness in the pious woman, 



FEMALE EDUCATION. Ill 

her habits of industry, and the serenity of her soul : 
" Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain ; but a 
woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised." 
Pietv is the crown of all the virtues and perfections 
of woman. 

These virtues and perfections are the most dis- 
tinguished charms in the wife, whether of the 
labourer or of the monarch ; but both the one and 
the other ought, in addition, to adorn her mind 
with the knowledge indispensable to her condition 
and rank in society. This knowledge may easily 
be obtained, for women of high birth have been 
known to earn their living by the labour of their 
hands in a humble condition; and those of low 
degree having risen to the highest ranks, — have 
stood with proud dignity in the presence of kings. 

The nature and accomplishments of woman form 
a beautiful contrast with those of man. He is born 
to action and influence in the bustle and turmoil 
of the world ; she, to regulate and superintend the 
peaceful duties of domestic life. He, intrepid, 
capable of resistance, and bold in danger, subdues 
rebellion, and reigns through unconquerable might ; 
she, on the contrary, rules by mildness and grace. 
He, calculating and acute, capable of every kind of 
labour and social relationship, lives almost entirely 
a life of active study and reflection ; she, priestess of 
Xature, fulfils its duties and its objects, and finds 



112 FEMALE EDUCATION. 

in all that promotes and preserves her natural 
dignity, her first and most distinguished charm. 

As the external world stands in contrast with 
the internal world, art with nature, strength with 
grace, so is man, in an earthly sense, placed in 
natural contrast with woman. But in a religious 
point of view, on the contrary, their souls have not 
the same distinction; religion crowns, or ought 
to crown, for ever their united existence. Thus, 
too, the vocation of the woman determines the 
extent and limits of the circle which embraces the 
sphere of her education. 

Grace is far more precious than beauty. Beauty, 
like the flower, participating in the nature of all 
earthly things, fades away after the lapse of a few 
years; but grace is an attraction and charm of the 
soul, and embellishes even old age itself. The 
splendour of a blooming countenance, the noble 
regularity of the features, — in one word, all that 
may delight or impose upon the senses, — does not 
always please the heart. It often happens, that in 
beautiful women there is wanting that charm of 
grace which captivates and enchains the soul by 
sweet mildness, by delicate and tender attention, 
and by a dignity without pretension. Beauty 
inspires an admiration more immediate than lasting; 
but grace renders even external deformities amiable, 
and establishes its empire gradually but securely. 



FEMALE EDUCATION. 113 

The desire to please, and by that means to 
exercise a certain power, is in the nature of the 
female sex. But, too frequently, in their education, 
grace is confounded with outward gentility and 
politeness, with a studied form in the gait and 
movements, and with the style and manner of 
address, usually denominated fashionable. But 
this is truly nothing more than an imitation of the 
charm of nature ; it is the paint applied to besmear 
the pale and faded cheek ; but real grace is health 
and nature itself, which gives to the complexion its 
incarnate hue. Beauty is an outward attraction, 
which strikes and dazzles the eye ; but grace is an 
intellectual charm, which shines softly through the 
corporeal envelope, and ennobles it. 

The inventions of taste in fashion and dress, 
and the little agreeable artifices of social life, may 
be learnt and copied ; but their fate is that of all 
imitations. They are only appreciated for a 
moment, as everything else which is more or less 
distant from the truth. The same as the strength 
of body, energy of character, and opinions of the 
man, are expressed in his features, in his words, in 
the sound of his voice, in his gait, and in his move- 
ments, without his own observation ; so also the 
innocence, the mildness, and the benevolence of 
soul in the woman, become revealed without 
design or art. It is not the taste of fashion which 



] 14 FEMALE EDUCATION. 

gives the grace ; but the grace of the soul, mani- 
fested in the most trivial affairs, is what fixes the 
laws of good taste. It is not every dress that suits 
or becomes every female ; the dress most analogous 
with the character of each is that which is the best 
adapted. The more noble that character, the more 
dignity will be naturally shown externally. There- 
fore, nothing can be more displeasing than those 
half-naked figures, imagined by wanton coquetry 
and fashion, the indication of a want of decency 
and delicacy. There is more grace in purity and 
simplicity of dress than in the most splendid attire ; 
the first are the symbols of the virtue of woman, 
the latter the emblem of her vanity. 

The education of females is generally either neg- 
lected or perverted ; the proof of which is in the 
greater importance attached to the art of pleasing 
externally, than in the development of the amiable 
qualities of the soul. Young females attire them- 
selves with elegance on occasions when they are 
certain of attracting observation; but the strict 
order and regularity of their toilet is only the effect 
of artifice, with which the heart can claim no merit. 
In their internal domestic arrangements, they 
exercise neither order nor exactitude ; they know 
not how to unite good taste with neatness and 
cleanliness. They learn dancing, music, and 
foreign languages^ in order to perform a conspicuous 



FEMALE EDUCATION. 115 

part in the world of fashion, and to receive its 
applause ; but in the bosom of their domestic circle 
at home, they are ignorant of the art of maintaining 
or re-establishing peace and concord by acting the 
character of the modest and gentle peace-maker; by 
showing a filial submission towards their parents, 
indulgence for the errors and faults of others, and 
encouragement for good behaviour. They read 
extensively, give their opinions and judgment upon 
works of art, visit the theatres, talk of science, 
maintain a conversation with spirit and animation, 
and make epigrams ; but to know how to console 
and sympathise at home with those that may be 
afflicted, to replace what may be wanting, to be 
content with little, to do all for others and require 
little themselves, to vary the uniformity of an idle 
or vain life by the active resources of the soul — 
of this art they are ignorant, and yet it is the art 
in which they ought to excel most ; for in erudi- 
tion, in science, in criticism, in all that trespasses 
upon the domain of man, they run the risk of 
being surpassed. And, in fact, generally speak- 
ing, the more the woman forgets the limits of 
the sphere marked out for her, in order to shine 
in the career reserved for the force and vigour 
of man, the more must she lose of her natural 
grace, and become physically and morally dis- 
pleasing. 

t2 



116 FEMALE EDUCATION". 

The scene of action, and the sphere most natu- 
rally and suitably adapted for woman, is domestic 
life ; her place is not amidst the excitement and 
agitation of public life. In all climates, and in all 
ages, the throne of female virtue has ever been 
established under the roof of her family. Only in • 
cities, where, discarding nature, the order she 
has fixed is completely overturned and banished, 
where the man is vain and affects to be effeminate, 
and where night is converted into day ; only 
amidst this perversion of customs and habits, we 
are not so much shocked or disgusted at seeing 
the woman aping the man, and making herself 
more the ornament of the ball-room than the charm 
of the domestic hearth. There only it is, that the 
young female can earn a reputation by her con- 
quests, by her romantic intrigues, by her acquaint- 
ance with novels and romances ; whilst she ruins 
her parents by her extravagant expenditure, and 
repays their blind indulgence and forbearance 
with obstinate and shameless opposition. There 
only it is, that mothers receive praise for devoting 
their valuable time to balls and routs instead of 
to their children, and preferring the society of 
strangers abroad to the domestic comforts of their 
home. There, also, may frequently be met many 
of the female sex, whose age unfits them for the 
indulgence of their former follies, and who close 



FEMALE EDUCATION. 117 

their career as peevish devotees or scandalising 
mischief-makers. 

It is only under his domestic roof, and nowhere 
else, that man can find true relaxation, ease, and 
comfort. There, coming from the struggles and 
contentions of public life, he sees again all that 
he holds dear in the members of his family circle. 
The easy state of life which fortune has procured 
him the means of enjoying, becomes doubly grate- 
ful amidst those that share it with him ; and the 
reputation and glory he may have acquired, 
receive still greater dignity and honour when 
enjoyed in their society. 

The whole and sole object of man's life is to 
procure the means to maintain his family ; but in 
the bosom of that family, it is the wife who is to 
second his efforts by her management and direc- 
tion. When he returns to his home to repose 
from the labours and exertions of the day abroad, 
she is all soul and activity, on her part, to render 
that home comfortable and happy ; and even when 
he is away, busy in the world of bustle and excite- 
ment, she contemplates him at a distance, in her 
moments of quiet leisure. Home is the centre of 
all a man's cares and hopes — the object of all his 
speculations, all his adventures, and all his perilous 
voyages. But upon woman it devolves to glorify 
the sanctuary to which the man consecrates all his 



118 FEMALE EDUCATION. 

faculties and powers. By her economy she pre- 
serves the riches he has amassed, and selects 
therefrom wherewith to recompense the husband 
for all his anxiety. Surrounded by insincerity, de- 
ception, and hatred in the world, the man is often 
forced by circumstances to disguise and conceal 
his sentiments, and act the opposite of what he 
feels and is ; but by the love and the sincere and 
generous affection of his wife, he is recalled again 
to himself; he returns again to his proper and 
native sphere. 

The simplicity of nature is the most brilliant 
ornament of woman ; this merit comprehends her 
wisdom, full of grace, and her delicate sense in all 
her domestic relations of life. All that is forced, 
displeases; it is nothing else than artifice, and 
betrays the deformity it attempts to conceal. As 
the infant charms by its innocence and truth, so 
the virgin, the wife, and the matron, charm by 
their simplicity, mildness, serenity, and cheerful 
disposition. Their outw r ard form may wear the 
appearance of age, but their heart retains its 
freshness of youth. Nature teaches them to love, 
and it instructs them in their avocations and 
duties. Faithful pupils of Nature, she remains 
their instructress to their latest days. Everything 
contrary to their destination is discarded by her as 
contrary to the first of all laws. Unhappily, the 



FEMALE EDUCATION. 119 

chief error in the education of females, is that 
they are instructed, more than boys, at the ex- 
pense of all sincerity, and are taught the art of 
dissimulation and false appearance : in the place 
of unpretending simplicity and dignity of inno- 
cence, is substituted studied and affected imitation 
of the natural. 

Therefore, parents, if you wish to give to your 
daughter an education which shall render her 
amiable, do not confide her into hands both 
strange and mercenary ; keep her safely guarded, 
next to your own heart ; let her know less, in 
order that she may become more what she ought 
to be. Her juvenile serenity and cheerfulness, 
her innocence profaned by no impure thought, 
the natural truth of her sentiments, the delicacy 
of her soul which can only find delight in noble 
feelings, her innate maidenly dignity from the 
consciousness of her virtue, — these are qualities 
worthy of your care; preserve them from the 
contagion of corrupt manners, and the seduction 
of bad examples ; and thus you will render your 
daughter an angel upon earth, and you will behold 
her cultivate the flowers of domestic felicity with 
affectionate devotion and at every sacrifice. Any 
other is only an artificial education, which orna- 
ments the outward form, but cannot penetrate to 
the depths of the soul. 



120 FEMALE EDUCATION. 

Above all, if you desire to found the education 
of your daughter upon a firm and solid base, the 
unerring means is through the religion of Jesus 
Christ. For without religion there is no truth, 
no love, no virtue, but, unhappily, too much dis- 
sipation, deception, and hidden passion. Without 
religion, there can be no beauty of soul, no 
domestic peace, no consolation in affliction, no 
courage in critical moments, but, alas ! too much 
affectation, imperious passion, coquetry, and levity, 
ending in despondency. 

The sight of either a youth or virgin kneeling 
in prayer, is more touching still and more sub- 
lime than to behold even the aged and venerable 
prostrate in prayer; it presents the image of 
innocence in communion with the Being of In- 
finite Holiness, the Lord God Almighty. 

" Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain : but 
a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be 
praised," saith the wise man. — Amen. 



DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 



Philippians, iv. 12. 
u I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound : every- 
where and in all things I am instructed both to be full and 
to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need." 

It is by no means an unusual occurrence in our 
days, to behold the most opulent families suddenly 
and unexpectedly visited with the reverses of 
fortune, and fall into a state of decay and even 
ruin. How many wealthy establishments have 
been forced to retrench their expenditure, and 
how many persons, hitherto in the enjoyment of 
easy circumstances, have found themselves reduced 
and thrown into a state approaching to poverty 
and indigence. 

And, in truth, it is a cruel sight, to behold the 
father of a virtuous family, plunged into necessity 
and distress, after having previously always con- 
tinued to experience the enjoyment of ease and 
the comfort of life. It is, indeed, painful thus to 
lose in a few days, or even at a moment, the fruits 



122 DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 

of an active and industrious life, and to see dis- 
appear irrecoverably, the gains resulting from 
much toil, great care, and perhaps inquietude and 
anxiety. But, what must prove still more painful, 
is to suffer such a reverse of fortune in an advanced 
age, when we no longer retain the vigour of mind 
nor the spirit of enterprise, and when the laborious 
exertions and active energies of our youth, are 
succeeded and repaid by sunken and impoverished 
age. And, finally, what must complete this 
wretched picture of distress, is to see vanish from 
before our view, with our fortune, all the plans 
we had formed — resulting from tender and pater- 
nal affection — for the benefit of our children, those 
objects of our continual care and anxiety. 

From the first moment it becomes known that a 
family has experienced a reverse of fortune, the 
whole world around them becomes changed, and 
assumes a different aspect. The greater portion 
of mankind, as is usual, exhibit forthwith an 
altered tone and manner towards the sufferers. 
A few amongst them, it is true, possessed of more 
generous and noble hearts, still faithful to their 
principles, come forward and seek to soften with 
their sympathy and condolence, the affliction of 
the suffering family ; and prove that they do not 
measure their esteem with riches. Then it is, 
although, alas ! but too rarely, that the grateful 



DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 123 

friend advances, and bearing in mind the debt he 
owes of earlier, happier times, hastens to repay the 
obligation at this trying moment, whilst, also, from 
another quarter, appears the former lowly, but 
hitherto neglected member of the circle, who now, 
however, forgetting the past mortification, seeks to 
show himself at heart, the true and sincere friend. 
But, on the other hand, hundreds of former friends, 
in name only, turn their backs upon the family, and 
those, upon whom they most calculated, forsake 
them. Those to whom the most disinterested con- 
duct had been shown, return the kindness with scorn, 
and aggravate the misfortunes of their friends with 
hard-hearted selfishness. Others again, formerly 
envious, now show their satisfaction, and secretly or 
undisguisedly, rejoice at the changed state of the 
condition of their friends, as if in triumph ; and, 
if they feel any sorrow whatever, it is only that 
the blow is not more heavy, whilst they discharge 
their venom in scandalising and spiteful language. 

It is not every one that is strong enough to bear 
such affliction with Christian patience ; many have 
been known to abandon themselves completely to 
despair, whilst others, poisoning the rest of their 
days with vain regret and sorrow, undermine their 
health, and shorten their existence, to the injury and 
loss of their relations and most intimate friends. 

But what can human wisdom dictate to him, 



124 DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 

who, surrounded by the ruins of his fortune, must 
despair ever to possess the means of rebuilding 
the edifice ? How recover the usual serenity of 
mind, when the fruits of an entire life of activity 
are lost? How can we restore to the domestic 
hearth, either happiness or peace, when we see 
our children without resources, and see nothing 
else around us in every direction, but destruction 
and misery ? Alas ! in such a situation, it is diffi- 
cult, nay, it is impossible, to regain the lost tran- 
quillity. The wisdom of the prudent man is but a 
feeble consolation in the bosom of poverty and 
scorn ; and the best principles lose all their 
influence, when we behold ourselves thrown, from 
our calm and tranquil state, into the overwhelming 
tempest, from the paradise of our domestic happi- 
ness, into the depth of wretchedness and misery. 

How ! Does then, really, no consolation exist — 
is no refuge to be found? May we no longer 
hope for peaceful and happy days ? Ah, yes ! 
and you, hapless being, are in error ; whilst, at 
the same time, your language shows you have 
never known wisdom. You boasted of your re- 
ligion, but hitherto you have not ever been 
religious ; thence it was that misfortune came 
upon you, and taught you to feel that there 
existed something still more elevated, more ex- 
alted, than mere fortune and rank. Until that 



DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 125 

moment, you were not a Christian ; for if Chris- 
tianity had penetrated your soul, you would now 
say, as Paul said formerly to the Philippians : 
" I know both how to be abased, and I know how 
to abound: everywhere and in all things I am 
instructed both to be fall and to be hungry, both 
to abound and to suffer need." 

If you still continue without ceasing to lament 
the loss of your fortune, mean-spirited and pusilla- 
nimous man as you are, you never have been a 
Christian, although you may have been observed 
at your devotions in church, and your language 
always respectful towards God. You never were 
a Christian, although you might have appeared so 
to yourself, because you attached too high a value 
to those merely external advantages, upon which 
you placed the sole foundation of the contentment 
of the mind and the peace of the soul. Whoever 
is not capable of supporting great losses, by pre- 
serving his serenity and strength of soul, he has 
not yet understood the spirit of Jesus Christ. It 
is only right that he should be made to bear the 
severest trials, in order that he may, eventually, 
estimate all perishable things according to their 
true value. 

There are many who have experienced more 
reverses than yourself, but who have always shown 
themselves more strong, more courageous, and 



126 DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 

more resigned to the will of God. Even emperors 
themselves, when expelled from their thrones, have 
signalised their fall by the elevation of their senti- 
ments. Men of power and of high rank, driven and 
forced from their palaces and seats of dignity, have 
been reduced to seek an asylum far distant from 
their native country, and to renounce for ever the 
pleasures and enjoyments to which their birth and 
position appeared to secure them a permament and 
exclusive right. Yet they have been seen to sup- 
port with courage a fate they could not change. 
They have learnt to know the Almighty hand 
which rules events, precipitates the great into the 
dust, and elevates the humble and lowly into the 
sphere they appeared not born to enter. 

Gather together, therefore, your strength and 
courage. Accustom yourself, above all things, to 
look misfortune in the face, whether it menaces 
you from afar, or threatens you more immediately 
at home. 

Commence by ascertaining the exact state of your 
fortune in all its divisions, and learn exactly what 
remains over after the losses you have sustained, 
and after you have satisfied your various obliga- 
tions, Many have fallen from one misfortune into 
another, because they have always wanted the 
courage to make themselves acquainted, in the 
proper time, with the exact situation of their affairs, 



DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY, 127 

and always thus remaining in doubt and uncer- 
tainty as to their real condition, have deceived 
themselves and others with false hopes. This 
uncertainty has only prolonged their anxiety, 
instead of diminishing it ; and thus their heart has 
nearly lost all the serenity and quietude they were 
forced to assume in their appearance. To complete 
their misery, they had not even at their command, 
the consoling remedy of seeking pity or imploring 
aid from their friends. The means they had 
recourse to, in order to save themselves, only 
aggravated their embarrassment; and far from 
preserving themselves, they only dragged other 
innocent and honest families to the brink, and even 
into the very depths, of the abyss they had gra- 
dually prepared for their own destruction. 

Exercise economy in your household; do not hesitate, 
with this view, to dive into all the disadvantages and 
evils of your situation. Make yourself acquainted 
with the whole extent of your misfortune, if you 
wisely wish to prevent greater evil. And if, in 
regulating your accounts, you find you cannot 
secure yourself longer, preserve at least the purity 
of your conscience and the honour of your name. 
Ycu will thus save from shipwreck, and for ever, 
the peace of your soul, your true happiness. You 
will be enabled to bear without uneasiness the 
scrutinising eye of the world ; for real misfortune 



128 DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 

is no crime, nor is consequent poverty a shame. 
You will retain the esteem of your contemporaries, 
and you may venture to calculate upon the appro- 
bation of God. And more than this ; even if you 
should be deprived of all, the blessing of God will 
still rest upon you, and will sooner or later relieve 
you, and re-possess your children of the comforts of 
which, for a time, they may have been deprived. 

Delay not a moment to regulate your expenses 
according to your real situation, and the state of your 
affairs. Renounce all vanity and false pride ; sin- 
cerity and humility have never plunged mankind 
into misfortune, but self-love and unfaithfulness 
have often led to the brink of the abyss. Banish 
from yourself all austerity and bad faith ; and you 
will thus be enabled to support the changes of 
fortune with that magnanimity of soul which 
smoothes away all the crosses and vicissitudes of 
life. In a shipwreck, the first that generally 
perishes is he who most abandons himself to 
despair. The courageous and brave man retains his 
presence of mind, and seizes the plank which is to 
convey him across the boisterous waves to the har- 
bour of refuge and safety. He who places his con- 
fidence in God and Providence will be surely saved. 

Fail not to take the wise and firm resolution to 
limit your expenditure , and to regulate your outlay 
according to the actual state of your income. Banish 



DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 129 

false shame ; for that which affects and pains you 
is not the more simple style of living which your 
situation now imposes upon you, but the fear of 
avowing, by your economy, the real state of your 
affairs. Exercise, however, the courage to be 
just towards yourself and your family, and to be 
truly honest and sincere. It is no shame, in 
times like our own, to debar ourselves from parti- 
cipating in the enjoyment of many things, which 
we might otherwise share in. Economy, far from 
being a disgrace, inspires confidence and esteem, 
for by that we repair the diminished state of our 
fortune ; our ancestors amassed their property by 
combining labour with temperance ; their incomes 
increased because their expenses were moderate 
and limited. But the contrary results must be 
experienced by the thoughtless and extravagant 
spendthrift, whose inconsiderate and reckless 
vanity, sooner or later, brings down upon him the 
rebukes of his family, and the indignation of his 
contemporaries; to which are added the reproaches 
of his own conscience. Such is and must be the 
just punishment of him who obstinately persists in 
pursuing expensive habits, whether at home or 
abroad. 

Preserve the purity of your conscience, and keep 
your honour without blemish, even at the sacrifice of 
everything else. Having done this, you will have 



130 DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 

saved the better part of yourself: you will have 
lost nothing of your own true worth and dignity. 

Oh what a treasure to possess, is that of a good 
conscience — strong in itself and secure from all 
reproach and fear ! To this we owe the elevation 
of our soul in humiliation and abasement, calm 
resignation in misfortune, fortitude under per- 
secution, and confidence in God in the most 
difficult circumstances of life. But the perfidious 
deceiver and designing and malicious counsellor, 
dare he lift up his eyes towards the great Mover 
of all things, the Supreme Judge of all actions, 
who suffers no crime to pass unpunished, nor no 
virtue without its reward ? 

Innocence secures respect, even amidst mis- 
fortune ; it produces the blush of shame in the 
foul-tongued slanderer, and strikes the venomous 
defamer dumb with silence. It conciliates for 
you the esteem of many of those to whom you 
were before not known, or even those who knew 
you not rightly in your prosperity. Without any 
other appeal than that of your own innocence and 
firmness, they will take a pride in offering you the 
hand of succour ; for, let it never be forgotten, 
that we may hate a tyrant, we may conspire to 
overthrow a powerful and despotic oppressor, we 
may despise the rich fool, and only feel indifference 
for all that may be beautiful; but the just man 



DECREASE OF DOMESTIC PROSPERITY. 131 

forces even his enemies to respect him ; and inno- 
cence appeases and disarms the most wrathful and 
angry spirit. The triumph of virtue is certain 
and secure, even if it be obtained only over the 
grave of the unfortunate. 

It is a thing of usual occurrence in our days, to 
behold, here and there, in every quarter, amongst 
our fellow-creatures, the decline and diminution 
of their worldly prosperity. But nothing is more 
rare than to meet with Christians sufficiently firm 
not to feel dejected by their reverses, and equally 
wise and prudent to avoid dragging others into 
their misfortune and ruin. Nor is it less rare to 
find Christians, when misfortune has deprived 
them of all it was not in their power to prevent, 
sufficiently resigned to turn their thoughts from 
transient possessions, and to fix them with con- 
fidence upon imperishable gifts; nor sufficiently 
courageous to walk in the steps of Jesus, their 
divine chief and guide, and renounce, as He did, 
the things of this world; to bear, like Him, 
shame and outrage ; nor sufficiently detached from 
worldly objects to be able to say, with Saint Paul: 
" I know both how to be abased, and I know how 
to abound: everywhere and in all things, I am 
instructed both to be full and to be hungry, both 
to abound and to suffer need ; I can do all things 
through Christ which strengtheneth me. — Amen." 

K 2 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 



Romans viii. 35. 

" Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or 
distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or 
sword ?" 

When the nations became divided upon the 
subject of their religious creed, and all hope for 
the re-establishment of the unity of the church 
had vanished, the ruling powers took advantage 
of this irritation of mind, and turned it to objects 
completely foreign to matters of faith. The one 
party, in its political wisdom, became alarmed lest 
it might lose a portion of its authority; and the 
other began to hope that the favourable moment 
had now arrived in which it might extend its 
power. Some rejoiced at witnessing the king- 
doms of others a prey to disorder and agitation; 
and others again favoured what those persecuted. 
The disputes between the Protestant princes were 
observed with malignant joy and delight by those 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 133 

that still adhered to the Catholic persuasion, who 
hoped to overpower them by this very disunion 
that prevailed among them. The former again 
enriched themselves with the spoils of the convents 
in the territories they entered. The right of the 
temporal authorities to pervert the property of the 
clergy from the use originally intended, was a 
point of constant discussion; and imperial edicts 
were continually issued, commanding the restora- 
tion of these possessions to the priesthood. The 
princes, however, on the contrary, who found 
their advantage in the suppression of the convents, 
maintained that the monastic institutions had long 
since renounced the object for which they were 
founded ; that, instead of being schools of virtue 
and wisdom, they were converted into habitations 
of hypocrisy and sloth, nourished by the marrow 
of the people; that the celibacy of the monks, 
priests, and nuns, at first the result of a fanatic 
exaltation of sanctity, had become afterwards a 
confirmed law by the policy of the court of Rome; 
that it ever remained an institution completely 
opposed to the laws of nature and divine regula- 
tion, and was the source of much evil and cor- 
ruption. 

This and other similar subjects became the 
constant theme for dispute; and thus the rival 
parties, often making an appeal to the sword, 



134 THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 

fought with varied success, until at length the 
general contention produced a general war. The 
people of all ranks rose up against each other to 
pillage, murder, and destroy. One of those periods 
had again arrived which made the earth a scene 
of inexpressible misery : a period which, according 
to the prediction of Jesus Christ, would arrive 
during the life-time of his disciples, when they 
should hear talk of wars and revolutions, and 
nation should be seen to advance against nation, 
kingdom against kingdom; when there should 
be plague, famine, and earthquakes, and terrible 
signs; and when hatred and persecution should 
arise for the name of Jesus Christ. 

And, truly, in the name of Jesus it was that 
all parties now opposed each other with the 
sword ; it was for the glory of God that men now 
bestrewed the field of battle with their blood: it 
was for the attainment of divine salvation that 
towns and villages were set on fire, and palaces 
and lowly cottages pillaged: that aged and vene- 
rable men, women, and children, were cruelly and 
dreadfully misused and ill-treated: it was the 
Father of mercy, the Father of the creation, that all 
parties invoked, and whose assistance all besought 
to exterminate their opponents. 

Alas, to what a fearful extent does not the wild 
and furious passion of man carry him ! A war of 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 135 

thirty years desolated Germany ; and even at the pre- 
sent day the effects are felt of the inhuman atrocities 
committed during that fearful period. Brothers 
plunging the sword into the heart of brothers ; sons 
betraying their own fathers ; and parents giving 
up their sons to the executioner. All human 
affections appeared completely extinguished; all 
the ties of nature for ever torn asunder. The 
continuation of this vast scene of desolation and 
misery appeared endless; men were born, grew 
up, and died, without having witnessed during 
their lives one single year of peace, and without 
having seen aught but one continued series of 
bloodshed and devastation — the dreadful results of 
religious war ! 

In all wars there is manifested the most shame- 
ful degeneration of the human species, surpassing 
in malice, cruelty, and sanguinary desire, even the 
beasts of the forest and the desert. But of all wars, 
the most terrible and obstinate are civil and reli- 
gious wars ; for each combatant, animated by 
individual enthusiasm and frenzy, is defender of 
his own cause ; he does not fight for land or for 
title, nor even for the pay of his prince, but for 
his own account and opinion; he is his own 
champion in the cause of that individual hatred 
which rages within him. 

When misery had everywhere attained its 



136 THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 

height ; when all the countries around had in suc- 
cession become destroyed by fire and sword, 
pestilence and famine ; and when all strength had 
become exhausted, peace was at length determined 
upon. The first burst of kindled fury and rage 
had been appeased and silenced, and the cravings 
of revenge allayed. The greater portion of those 
who had taken a principal part in these dreadful 
scenes were now no more; but others had 
succeeded^ who continued hostilities with views 
completely different from those of their predeces- 
sors. The object of the war had now. at its 
termination, become altogether changed, and the 
question now no longer turned upon the extermi- 
nation of the one or the other religious party, or 
the establishment of one exclusively reigning 
church; but the points now to be settled were 
those of indemnity, territory, and limits, with 
acknowledgment of title and rank. Catholics and 
Reformers of all sects had struggled and fought 
with one another for their existence and rights ; 
all had now become consolidated, and more firmly 
established and held together in peace and unity. 
Such were the results of these dreadful struggles. 
The hopes and wishes, however, so reciprocally 
hostile between these parties, remained unfulfilled. 
The will of God was accomplished, but not that 
of man ; and thus it was that a numerous body of 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 137 

churches, and religious creeds, were enabled to 
continue side by side. How easy might it not 
have been to the Almighty, the Disposer of all 
things, to have given the victory to one or the 
other party ! But this diversity of faith and wor- 
ship contributed to establish a diversity of thought 
and feeling, and thus to excite and stimulate the 
churches to emulate each other to proceed onwards 
in the path of improvement. A pacific but con- 
tinual struggle of all the pow r ers leads to perfection, 
and in time destroys whatever is imperfect and 
unworthy. The world had long since learned, 
that the stagnation of the intellectual faculties by 
the despotic sway of an exclusive church, might 
eventuate in the ruin of the whole community. 
Stagnant pools send forth infectious fever and 
putrid disease, while running waters are the 
fountain of health. 

These protracted and cruel religious wars, 
which had for their object the triumph of one 
particular faith over another, by no means pre- 
vented the continuance of a schism in the Christian 
church. What benefit had therefore been pro- 
duced by the shedding of so much blood ? Of 
what service had been the devastation spread 
around, and the calamities and misery suffered by 
so many nations ? 

Truly, the evils accompanying such wars, espe- 



138 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 



cially when not considered merely in a general 
point of view, but beheld in all their details, in 
the piercing shrieks of the mother, the cries of 
the wounded, the moans of the dying, the wild 
despair of the plundered, and the terror of the 
vanquished, together with, lastly, the languishing 
state of the starving, — truly it may be said, that a 
scene of such misery exposes the observer to the 
most dreadful of all temptations, to that of re- 
nouncing all faith in the love and justice of an 
all-ruling Providence. For at the view of these 
dreadful consequences of frenzy and fury, and 
when contemplating the scene of the frightful and 
undeserved misery, which overwhelms the inno- 
cent, we ask, Whence and to what end does all 
this take place ? And if our reason, which searches 
in vain for this end, seeks satisfaction in the pro- 
bability that what is endured by individuals is 
only a just punishment for sins with which we are 
unacquainted, why then, we ask, should those 
that are acknowledged to be quite innocent, be 
dragged into the torrent of calamity and tribula- 
tion ? What has the poor, harmless infant com- 
mitted, that a wild and remorseless soldier should 
in his fury dash it against a wall or cast it into the 
flames ? Why are so many links of affection burst 
asunder, and so much happiness barbarously de- 
stroyed ? Why has Grod united us by ties closely 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 139 

and delicately interwoven, if lie permits them to 
be torn asunder amidst sorrow and pain ? Why 
has he given us an irresistible desire to construct 
for ourselves a fabric of happiness, if an accident 
of nature or the wickedness of man is permitted 
to demolish, at one blow, all that the labour and 
anxiety, the hopes and joys of our life, have pro- 
duced ? Can we therein trace and recognise a 
plan of divine wisdom, or the love of Providence 
in a tender care for human beings ? — and while, 
too, so many sacrifices have been made towards 
the elevation of the tender mind in Christian mo- 
rality, but who, nevertheless, fall the victims of 
misfortune ; although, as says the Scripture, not a 
sparrow shall fall without the knowledge of Him 
who has counted all the hairs upon our head ? 

My soul shudders and trembles within me ! 
How many desponding hearts have experienced 
what I myself have felt in the most painful hours 
of my life, and, like me, have asked of Heaven — 
why must I suffer so, and what good can result 
therefrom ? How few there are possessed of that 
heroic confidence to be enabled to say with 
St. Paul, u Who shall separate us from the love of 
Christ ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecu- 
tion, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?" 

I have often met with persons unable to recon- 
cile in their mind, the melancholy fate they had 



140 THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 

experienced, either through war or other circum- 
stances, with the idea they had formed of the 
providence and love of God : I have beheld them 
for a long time continue inconsolable and murmur- 
ing in a state of complete despair, until at length 
they have suddenly stopped, as if they were unex- 
pectedly illumined by some trait of light. I have 
then found that, all at once, they had recognised 
the utility of their own sufferings, or public cala- 
mity ; and that, amidst their affliction, they had 
heard a voice which said : " Be still, and know that 
I am God." (Psalm xlvi. 10.) 

One thing is certain, when I am forced to wit- 
ness so much unmerited misery, and more especi- 
ally those evils produced by war, I feel consoled 
when I recollect, namely, that physical pain and 
earthly evils altogether, have not always a mere 
temporal benefit in view, but have for their object that 
which is far more exalted. 

Proverbially we know, that experience is the 
mother of prudence. The ordinary evils of life, 
whether they are the result of faults committed or 
not, although they may not appear to have an 
object, never fail to operate beneficially upon the 
mind. They make us more cautious and more 
considerate, and force us to acquire knowledge 
and to develop talents, by the aid of which we 
may prevent our suffering again from similar mis- 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 141 

fortunes. Experience engenders prudence ; but 
this wisdom, although a quality of the mind, is 
only applicable to the relations of terrestrial life, 
and to their just and proper knowledge and 
appreciation. Prudence is not by any means one 
of the principal virtues of the soul ; nor is the 
final object of all our sufferings on earth merely 
to make us more wise. What can eventually all 
human wisdom oppose to the imperious power of 
destiny ? The afflictions of this life have not for 
their object the advantages of this life, but the 
happiness of our immortal soul. 

Proverbially we know also, that misfortune 
improves mankind. Moral perfection is a supreme 
good — we ought to aim at becoming perfect as our 
celestial Father himself is perfect. Afflictions are 
the true means of ensuring to our soul preroga- 
tives as indestructible as itself. But how can 
man improve himself by the influence of earthly 
afflictions and physical sufferings? How can 
things visible beyond us, so haply influence that 
which is unseen within us ? They operate by 
making us convinced, by sad experience, of 
their uncertainty and decay, and prevent us, by 
the inconstancy of their joys, from placing con- 
fidence in them. He who considered a large 
fortune as the first of possessions, and has lost his 
own by the wickedness of man, or by war, fire, or 



142 THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 

inundation, begins to learn that money and all 
other property, do not offer that solid and endur- 
ing support which he feels to be necessary to 
him. Equally so is the case with him who, having 
fallen from the pinnacle of rank and consideration, 
finds himself an object of contempt and shame, 
and becomes then convinced that his heart has 
bowed to a false divinity, and feels pity for the 
man who places his dependence for happiness upon 
the honours which man can give and take away 
from him. And, lastly, he who has lost his best 
friends and his most dearly beloved relatives, is 
doubly reminded of his own mortality, and that he 
must never allow his heart to be attached by too 
strong an affection, whether it be to his father, 
mother, his own children, sister, brother, or most 
intimate friends— for nothing earthly can endure. 
The world will not afford us any durable enjoy- 
ment. TTe must depend upon ourselves, and upon 
the spirit which reigns within us ; we must detach 
ourselves as much as possible from all that is sen- 
sual, and become indifferent to all that may flatter 
our passions. Finding nothing in the order of 
things upon earth that we can place our confidence 
in, because all must fall, all must come to an end, 
we are thus ejected even by the passing world 
itself, and are invited to give our heart to things 
divine and imperishable, which alone constitute 



THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 143 

our real possessions. The more we refuse to 
understand the order and arrangement established 
by God in the universe, the more we have to suffer. 
Approach, approach the heavenly Father, by the 
sanctification of the soul, is sounded in our ears by 
every unhappy event of our lives. 

Necessity leads us whither we ought to go — to 
God. In order to be happy, we must exchange 
the love of the world for the love of heaven. This 
is the one grand object of all the afflictions and 
trials of life — they are intended to make us the 
imitators of God. 

No, there is no real misery in those evils over 
which I may triumph by the force of mind, by 
perseverance, confidence in God, resolution, and 
virtue. Misfortune, therefore, may be traced to 
the weakness of man, who is too prone to pleasure, 
and abandons himself to enjoyments with passion 
and immoderation. He who can conquer himself, 
has conquered in his own heart the world and all 
its miseries. Far from being separated, therefore, 
from the love of God by affliction, anguish, perse- 
cution, or famine, they only reawaken in us the 
love of God and divine things. The calamitous 
years of the religious wars, as all the atrocities of 
subsequent periods, make me shudder, it is true, 
at human depravity; but they can neither shake nor 
weaken my faith in the providence and love of God. 



144 THE RELIGIOUS WARS. 

But, it may be asked, are the innocent victims 
of the brutality which, alas ! the soldiery have too 
often exhibited, really more to be pitied, than if 
they had sunk under the sufferings of a lingering 
disease? And those fire-consumed dwellings, 
whether cottages or palaces, would they not in 
time have crumbled into ruin as complete, even 
though never assailed by war ? He whose soul is 
not in such close union with his God, that he can, 
by strength so derived, bear up against the loss of 
all earthly joys, stands in need of suffering and 
sorrow, to teach him to detach himself from the 
world and its evanescent good, that he may rise to 
God, and lift himself above the circumstances of 
this life, in imitation of his Saviour, who voluntarily 
took upon Himself the severest pains, the deepest 
woe, for the good of the world, for the salvation of 
souls whose earthly and evil passions had otherwise 
plunged them into irretrievable destruction ! — 
Amen. 






SOCIAL LIFE. 



1 Peter iv. 8—10. 
14 And above all things have fervent charity among yourselves ; for 
charity shall cover the multitude of sins. Use hospitality one 
to another without grudging. As every man has received the 
gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards 
of the manifold grace of God." 

We are born to cherish and act up to the principle 
of sociability. The Creator has planted in the 
heart of every human creature the natural impulse 
and inclination to seek his fellow-creature, in order 
to share and participate with him in the joys and 
sorrows of his earthly existence. Even the most 
savage and ferocious beasts of the forest and the 
desert recognise its gentle power and influence. 
And who could or would wish to withstand, this 
inclination ? Who would desire to inhabit a world 
where our days should be wasted in one perpetual 
solitude, where we could neither labour for our 
fellow-creature, nor offer him friendship for 
friendship ; where in our occupations, more or less 
important, we should never receive the smile of 



146 SOCIAL LIFE. 

approbation and encouragement, and where no 
loving soul would ever listen to our complaints 
with tender and sympathising pity? Alas ! if such 
were, indeed, the case, it would be no world, no 
veritable scene of life, but one vast and gloomy 
grave, in which we should drag along our solitary 
and miserable existence. The unfortunate inha- 
bitants of a prison feel the loss of social intercourse 
the most painful of all deprivations ; and when the 
cold dungeons and silent walls around them remain 
insensible to their sighs and groans, they catch 
even at the spider, as a last resource, and, taming 
it to their purpose, they inspire it with confidence 
and attachment; for it is, at least, a living object, 
and becomes a sensible and grateful companion. 

We are born for society, and for the intercourse 
of each other. The faculties with which our organi- 
sation is endowed, and our disposition to virtue, 
can only be developed in our daily communication 
with beings of our own species. We ought, and 
must not avoid the society of man, nor bury our- 
selves in continual solitude. For the inability to 
commit sin does not constitute sanctity : he alone 
is holy who, surrounded by temptation and entice- 
ment, is enabled to resist their influence. He that 
buries his pound is not a faithful secretary of the 
Lord, but only he that works for the good of his 
brothers and the glory of God. (Luke xix. 12 — 26.) 



SOCIAL LIFE. 147 

Neither Jesus Christ, our divine model, nor his 
first disciples, absented themselves from the inter- 
course of men ; they did not banish themselves for 
life in solitude ; but they, on the contrary, mixed 
with the bustle and tumult of the world, in 
order to do good. They did not refuse to partici- 
pate in friendly meetings and festivities ; neither 
did they deny to themselves the pleasures of 
society. He who wishes to sow for eternity must 
seek for the field wherein to plant his seed, and 
this field is the heart of man. 

But of all social intercourse, that which is the 
most congenial to us, is the society we enjoy under 
our own roof, in the bosom of our family, and the 
friendship and intimacy of our friends ; for that 
which more immediately surrounds us and bears 
relationship with ourselves, must merit, above 
all, our attention and consideration. Upon the 
favourable or unfavourable arrangement of the 
circumstances of our domestic life depends whether 
our days shall be happy or miserable, filled with 
care and sorrow, or strewed with varied pleasures 
and enjoyments, rendered on that account more 
durable. This must be, naturally, the first and 
grand object of our care; we may, then, consider 
the pleasures of the society which await us beyond 
our home. He that is unhappy in his domestic 
circle deserves our pity and commiseration ; for 



148 SOCIAL LIFE. 

his happiness must, then, depend merely upon 
strangers with whom he can pass but a very limited 
portion of his life. 

But the peace and domestic felicity of home, 
that treasure and true foundation of our daily con- 
tentment and gratification, must be the work of 
our own hands. If we feel ourselves wretched in 
our own house, if in the circle of our relations 
and intimate friends we find no recreation or 
entertainment, the fault rests with ourselves; 
there must, on our part, be a want of either 
prudence or virtue. If we are not oppressed with 
want and all its attendant cares and anxieties, but 
the bitterness of which is softened by the affection 
of those who surround us, it must be our errors, 
our bad habits, and our vices, which cause the 
heavy weight of malediction to hang over our roof, 
and produce therein anarchy and disorder. We 
will either not consent ourselves to renounce cer- 
tain offensive habits and customs, and thus practise 
self-denial ; or we have not sufficient indulgence 
and charity, or friendly prudence, to try to gra- 
dually wean and break those of their faults with 
whom our lot in life is cast. The spirit of bene- 
volence, and of mutual confidence, is banished 
from our home ; and neither the happiness of 
peace, nor the blessings of domestic virtue, are to 
be found there. If, in our foolish and obstinate 



SOCIAL LIFE. 149 

madness, we plant thorns, how can we hope or 
expect to pluck roses ! 

Struggle against your faults, which wound and 
irritate others ; exercise charity, and show affection 
towards those you are in the habit of seeing daily, 
rather than towards those whom you meet but 
rarely ; banish your spirit of dominion, and destroy 
your evil temper ; avoid all that may interfere 
with the legitimate rights and pretensions of the 
companions of your life, and everything that may 
interrupt their contentment. Such a reformation 
will beautify and embellish your domestic exist- 
ence ; a thousand little delights will make a heaven 
of that home which, hitherto, disunion and conten- 
tion had rendered a hell. In one word, be wise ; 
be a christian, and you will be happy. 

But the happiness we share in the bosom of our 
family ought not, however, to be a motive for us 
to exclude ourselves from all other society. The 
charms of domestic life doubtless merit a preference; 
but those who are placed beyond our own imme- 
diate circle have also their rights to our intercourse. 
Not to enter at all in communication with others, 
is to neglect the means of extending our sphere of 
activity. "When we pass our days exclusively with 
a few intimate associates only, we can only have a 
one-sided view of things ; we cannot come to know 
humanity under these impressions ; we pronounce 



150 SOCIAL LIFE. 

often an opinion and judgment completely false 
and at variance with justice ; we are ignorant of 
the various sources of the evil we are taught to 
avoid, and we deprive ourselves of the opportu- 
nities for admiring and appreciating in others those 
virtues and graces which we ought to take for a 
model, and endeavour to make our own. 

But the selection of the society which ought to 
add to the enjoyments of life, must not be indifferent 
to the Christian. It is important for his heart, his 
opinions, and his domestic peace, that he should 
proceed with the reflection and prudence which 
becomes the wise man. We are instructed by our 
own experience to know that we insensibly acquire 
certain qualities from those persons whose society 
we are in the habit of frequenting, and with whom 
we are pleased. We never remain entirely our- 
selves ; but as in the vicinity of others we breathe 
the same air, so also we respire in a certain degree 
their principles and qualities. Tell me whom you 
visit, says the proverb, and I will tell you who 
you are, how you think, and what you are worth. 
Do not, therefore, make choice of suspicious 
society, dangerous for the purity of your manners, 
and the integrity of your heart. Do not confide 
too much in your own strength and sentiments, 
but acknowledge, on the contrary, the power of 
example and custom, which gradually shakes and 



SOCIAL LIFE. 151 

destroys the most firm minds. Honour your name, 
and honour the reputation of your house. Let this 
be the rule for your conduct through life ; connect 
yourself with those whose known virtue and wis- 
dom inspire your superiors with the desire to make 
your acquaintance, and be amongst the number of 
your friends. How many, by the imprudent 
selection of their associates, have banished from 
societv men distinguished for the di°mitv of their 
sentiments, and have thus been the means of pro- 
ducing their personal degradation, without having 
themselves committed any wrong ! Imprudence 
is also a vice, if not of the heart, at least of the 
judgment; and to obstinately persist in mad and 
unreasonable conduct, after the better mode of 
acting has been recognised, becomes a sin of the 
heart. 

Avoid, therefore, all society which dees not con- 
tribute, at least by degrees, towards your moral 
improvement, which does not associate you with 
estimable and amiable companions, but where 
vulgar pleasures, on the contrary, obtain the pre- 
ference. Doubtless, when you seek society beyond 
your own roof, you do not so much think of the 
instruction and perfection of your soul; your 
principal object is to divert your mind, to repose 
after your labours, and to recruit yourself. But 
you must acknowledge, that you often pay too 



152 SOCIAL LIFE. 

dear for a recreation when purchased at the ex- 
pense and sacrifice of your better self; and you 
must further grants that you degrade yourself if 
you find any taste in coarse and indecent amuse- 
ments and entertainments. The most valuable 
and precious recreations are those which preserve 
the serenity of the mind without compromising 
our innocence, and in which the example of 
others renders us more noble, more complacent, 
and more amiable than we were previously. 

Do not select society, the conversation of which, 
instead of elevating your spirit, drags it into the 
abyss of daily corruption; where impure, equi- 
vocal puns, accompanied by the roaring laughter 
of men without education, pass for witticisms ; 
where the venomous tongue of calumny incessantly 
attacks the character and honour of good men; 
where baseness of mind and wickedness of heart 
seek and find a pleasure in idle gossip, and in 
reporting with eager impatience, to and fro, all 
that happens, important or insignificant, in other 
houses, in order to be the means of eliciting 
envious and uncharitable remarks and criticisms. 
" Be not deceived ; evil communications corrupt 
good manners" (1 Cor. xv. 33). 

Do not select society ■, to frequent which must 
produce, from your part, a greater expenditure 
than your income permits you to make; you may 



SOCIAL LIFE. 153 

not perhaps find elsewhere connexions which 
appear to you so agreeable or inviting ; but that 
does not authorise you to cultivate the intercourse 
of company which will ruin your finances. A 
pleasure too dearly paid for, ceases to be a plea- 
sure, because it is a crime committed against the 
sanctity of your domestic peace and welfare. 
"When we allow ourselves to be allured and se- 
duced into pleasures which occasion expenses 
out of proportion with our means, it rarely occurs 
through the difficulty of finding other more suit- 
able society; but rather, it is the result of pride 
and false ambition, or some other interested motive. 
He who is the slave of any passion whatever, 
whether it is of the mania to shine, to gamble, or 
any other, resembles the madman, who, in order 
to warm himself for an hour, sets fire to his own 
house. Such is the character of him, who, for the 
sake of a few jovial hours, destroys his domestic 
welfare, and prepares for himself many long years 
of mortification, want, and misery. 

Unhappily, this evil — rather let us call it, this 
destructive madness — so fatal to all happiness, is 
too general in our days. Alas ! how few exist 
who know how to appreciate the value of domestic 
happiness ! How many senseless beings sacrifice, 
for expensive and ruinous pleasures abroad, all 
the comfort and delight they may possess at home! 



154 SOCIAL LIFE. 

In order to make a figure and shine in the eyes of 
others, they live miserably and niggardly in the 
bosom of their family. In order to make a display 
amongst strangers abroad, they abandon their 
children at home ; and, for the sake of variety and 
diversion afar from their domestic hearth, they 
plunge all that they ought to hold most dear on 
earth into anxiety and despair. 

In our intercourse with society, let us seek only 
an agreeable recreation and repose after the uniform 
and troublesome occupations of our calling ; only a 
refreshment of the spirit, which renders it more 
capable of serious application, or a pleasant and 
easy entertainment amidst an enjoyment shared 
by a circle of estimable persons. For the mere 
strengthening of our bodies, and the mere grati- 
fication of our sensual appetite, we have no need 
of society ; but it is quite different when it has for 
its object the nourishment of our mind. There- 
fore it is advantageous not to select for our com- 
panions those merely who are of our own opinion 
and judgment, or who are of the same age. The 
more varied the social life, the more valuable it 
becomes. In moderate and friendly contradiction, 
the mind develops new thoughts and ideas ; and 
we part with double pleasure from the society in 
which we have acquired information and instruction 
to convey to our quiet and peaceful abode. Not 



SOCIAL LIFE. 155 

a moment of our existence ought to pass without 
profit to our mind, and even the most trivial joy 
ought to pay its tribute. Therefore, all who are 
still in the enjoyment of a cheerful and youthful 
age, far from avoiding the intercourse of men more 
advanced in years, ought to cultivate their society. 
It is thence that, without difficulty and sacrifice, 
experience may be obtained useful for the future ; 
there, vivacity and light-heartedness may be united 
with calm dignity and sedateness, a union which 
must gain all hearts and conciliate all minds. 
Those also, w T ho pride themselves upon their age 
and experience, should cordially mix with their 
juniors, both in years and maturity, whose gaiety 
and raillery will mollify their gravity, render them 
more tolerant in their opinions and judgment of 
the age, and, in recruiting their spirit, will dissi- 
pate the morose humour which often saddens and 
sours old age. 

The first condition for the pleasures of social 
life is, the art of living with others. This art does 
not merely consist in the forms of politeness, in 
acknowledged and accepted ceremonies and cus- 
toms, in easy manners, and outward decency; the 
true knowledge of living is of a more elevated 
order. It requires the avoidance of all objec- 
tionable and offensive habits and usages; it 
demands a pleasing and amiable manner of con- 



156 SOCIAL LIFE. 

duct and behaviour, which inspires every one with 
courage to approach us, and to feel happy in our 
society, so that, even the most complete stranger 
may feel himself at ease and at home with us. 
The foundation of the art of living in society is 
affection and charity, united with external grace. 

Let us not imagine that these matters are of too 
little consequence to merit the serious attention of 
the Christian. No, nothing is trifling or indifferent 
which can contribute to the happiness of life or 
benefit of society. Nothing is to be despised which 
gives us the power of gaining the good-will and 
esteem of our fellow-creatures. As God loves his 
children, so ought we to love our contemporaries. 
Which is the man who commaiids more means, 
who possesses more power than others to distribute 
his benefits, and dispense happiness by his actions 
and counsel ? It is not he, who seated on his 
throne beholds millions of slaves at his feet ; but 
it is the man who reigns over all hearts by the 
confidence and attachment he inspires within them. 

The voice of religion invites you to enjoy with 
prudence and wisdom the pleasures of social life ; 
be therefore, in your intercourse with your friends 
and acquaintances, a man full of religion. When 
the cup of pleasure is presented to you, do not 
forswear your religion — that means, do not descend 
by intemperance, or any ,unreflected action, beneath 



SOCIAL LIFE. 157 

the dignity you ought to maintain as the child of 
the Almighty, as a champion aspiring to the im- 
mortal crown, as the inheritor of a celestial and 
sublime life! Enjoy the agreeable hours of this 
short existence, but with the wisdom of the man 
who loiters not on his way, plucking every flower 
he may meet with. Mix in the society of honest 
and cheerful men, but never without the intention 
of distinguishing yourself among them by an 
amiable morality ; with the resolution of inspiring 
them with aversion for all that is ignoble, and with 
enthusiasm for all that is worthy of esteem and 
affection. Thus, amid such joy and pleasure, you 
will make them companions of eternity, and par- 
ticipators of immortal glory; and thus the spirit 
of Jesus, whose consolation penetrated your soul 
when overcome with sorrow, will hover, gloriously 
and triumphantly, over the joys and pleasures of 
your life. 

Thus, thou sublime model and- author of 
human felicity, Jesus Christ, I shall be wise in Thy 
wisdom, and I shall know how to unite with the 
pleasures of existence, the delights of a pure soul, 
and the heavenly joys of universal charity ! — Amen. 



'- 



R^8S2£W<«si^^^ g - ^ 



mmm*®£ d 



A MAN'S PEICE. 



Genesis, xxxix. 9. 
" There is none greater in this house than I ; neither hath he kept 
hack anything from me but thee, because thou art his wife : how 
then can I do this great wickedness, and sin against God ? n 

Human life presents one remarkable pheno- 
menon, inasmuch as every individual sets the 
highest value on himself; everyone regards the 
world as only existing for him, and considers him- 
self as the centre around which everything else 
moves ; and in spite of their pride, the majority of 
men are the slaves one of another, or of some com- 
paratively valueless object, on which their desires are 
fixed. Nothing is more frequent than these con- 
tradictions in the heart of man, — extravagant pride, 
combined with forgetfulness of others 5 worth, or 
than this insatiable egotism with haughty contempt. 
"We are justly astonished to find, that the frequent 
experience of this does not cause wise and prudent 
persons to keep a more attentive and watchful eye 
upon themselves. 



a man's price. 159 

Every man may be bought, if ice but knoic his price, 
says the proverb. The more we know the human 
heart, the more convinced we shall be of this truth. 
A man of penetration, and adroit in divining his 
fellow-creatures, soon discovers at what price an 
individual is disposed to sell himself : he treats him 
accordingly; and, if the price is low, he makes 
him his slave. 

Every man may be bought for a certain price. 
The haughty reader smiles, and says — " Doubt- 
less there are many who are ready to sell, at the 
most contemptible price, their life, their honour, 
and their honesty; iniquitous judges allow them- 
selves to be corrupted by presents ; and fresh 
temptation will cause the libertine to forget all 
respect for innocence, for his own duty, and for his 
own reputation. But, as regards myself, you may 
give me millions, and promise me all the pleasures 
this world can afford, still you will never bribe me 
to commit a base or unworthy act ! " This language 
certainly appears sincere; but once try to flatter 
his pride, and you will find him submit to your 
yoke. Offer him titles, honours, and all the dis- 
tinction and respect which power commands, and 
be assured that, for this brilliant price, you will 
behold him consent to plunge a whole country in 
misery; place him in a situation, in which the 
revelation of a secret connected therewith, may 



160 a man's price. 

perhaps rob him of all public esteem, you will see 
him become a victim to all the fury of passion, 
capable of secretly committing fraud, felony, and 
even assassination ; and if he cannot save himself 
by either of these means, he will complete the list 
of crimes with suicide ! Alas ! ye once happy 
countries, how many thousands of families have 
beheld their felicity within your bosom destroyed 
by the tyranny of an ambitious ruler ! How many 
men have sacrificed their fortune, friendship, love, 
and even life itself, in order to preserve the honour 
of their name or house. Thus all these men sold 
themselves for some demonstrations of honour which 
they desired to retain, and which they would not 
survive. 

How foolish, exclaims another, to burden our- 
selves with cares and anxieties, for the sake of the 
vain and empty noise of fame ! Of what importance 
is it to us, whether the world shows us more or 
less esteem ? Who knows not man, and the insta- 
bility of his opinions — idolising to-day what he 
disdains to-morrow, and bowing with reverence 
before you when present, but despising you in the 
bottom of his heart. Greater distinction only 
creates more numerous rivals, and produces every 
degree of jealousy. No, you will say, never for 
such a price will I ■ sacrifice the happiness and 
tranquillity of my days, or the principles which 



a man's price. 161 

guide my conduct, nor my life. It is thus that 
man speaks, and yet perhaps he would sell himself 
for even still less a price. Let him only be 
invited by those of whose unworthiness he has 
convincing proofs, and be hospitably entertained 
by them, we shall soon behold him acting the 
flatterer towards them; and in his enjoyment of 
the viands and wines placed before him, he will 
disclose his own secrets, and betray the con- 
fidence of his friends ; he will allow his tongue 
free scope, and, banishing all feeling of morality 
and modesty, he will heartily join in, and con- 
tribute towards, the most shameful excesses. If 
he becomes poor, and is no longer capable of 
continuing to indulge in the expensive style of 
living he has hitherto enjoyed, he is unable to 
yield to his reduced circumstances, and live more 
moderately ; the privation of his usua] pleasures 
becomes intolerable, and he prefers even death 
to such a melancholy existence. How many rich 
spendthrifts, who have fallen into indigence, have 
become their own executioners, because they 
fancied, as their fortune was reduced, they had no 
longer wherewith to exist, although possessing 
sufficient to maintain perhaps several families! 
A wretched being of this cast would assuredly be 
purchaseable ; for the sake of a few choice dishes 
and rare wines, and the accommodation of an 



162 a man's price. 

elegant mansion, lie would not hesitate to plunge 
into corruption and crime. 

* But such a man, exclaims another, can only 
truly be ranked among the very lowest of human 
kind. Never would I sink into such an abject 
state, or place myself so completely in the ranks of 
the brutes, as to live only for the sake of the 
pleasures and enjoyments of my palate. "What 
need is there for all these luxuries and delicacies 
of the table ? Is it not sufficient to eat and drink 
with moderation and temperance? And of what 
consequence are all such honours and distinctions ? 
Is it not enough to be beyond the reach of scorn 
and hatred, and to have no cause to fear for the 
tranquillity of our life ? No ; to be, for such a 
price, so foolishly lavish of friendship, affection, 
peace of soul, and of life itself, is to place yourself 
in the very lowest degradation. — It is thus that 
this severe censurer speaks of all those who allow 
themselves to be purchased at such a low price. But 
what price does he himself require for his prin- 
ciples of virtue ? Set the gaming-tables in order, 
shuffle the cards, and let the dice-box resound 
again amidst the glare of lights ; assemble together 
a chosen few to risk the fleeting chances of fortune ; 
and all this noble pride will disappear. The 
unhappy being presses forward with eager anxiety ; 
he who before was, perhaps, the most feeling of 



a man's price. 163 

men, becomes now the most callous to the ruin of 
others; he who in all his transactions was the 
most conscientious of men, is now, by the 
interest of shameful gain, led to commit every sort 
of fraud, as long as it can be kept concealed ; and 
he who was the most faithful husband and tender 
parent suddenly forgets, in the madness of passion, 
his hitherto beloved wife and children. He stakes 
and loses their patrimony — their only resource. 
Their lamentations have no effect upon him ; their 
supplications, and the warnings of his friends and 
superiors, and the disapproving comments of his 
inferiors, are all vain and entirely useless. He 
continues to play ; and if fortune turns from him 
her deceitful face, he is left without property, 
without any resource, despised by those who 
have robbed him; and, at length, is driven by 
despair and remorse to the most guilty extremes. 

To gratify his passion and repair his losses he 
uses sums confided to his charge ; he cheats the 
government and authorities ; he commits forgery 
and perjury; nothing becomes too criminal for 
him, for he is now abandoned to crime : until at 
length, amidst the ruin of his fortune and honour, 
he ends by destroying himself. Alas ! how many 
men, esteemed for their eminent qualities have, 
with their families, been for ever lost through the 
passion of gambling ! And this man again was 



164 A MANS PRICE. 

venal, at the price of a pleasure ruinous both to 
his mind and health ; and he was ready to sell his 
soul for those emotions of pleasure and pain which 
succeed each other so swiftly round the gaming- 
table — the vile altar consecrated to the god of 
chance. 

Every one may be bought at some price : and 
you as well 9 perhaps. What price do you put upon 
your fidelity, your innocence, your honesty ? You 
are astonished at the question — you do not believe 
that you would barter, for any price, your soul, 
your peace in this world, or your salvation in that 
to come. What ! have you, up to this moment, 
stood out so stoutly against all temptations, that 
not one — not even the most seductive — has taken 
effect upon you ? On every occasion when your 
loyalty, your chastity, your moderation, or your 
fidelity has been put to the trial, have you shrunk 
with horror from the temptation to sin, and 
exclaimed, with Joseph, " How then can I do this 
great wickedness, and sin against God?" 

The passion for play, perhaps, may not exert 
any influence over you, but is it so with vanity ? 
And if vanity has not the power to entice and 
mislead you into a false path, and into degradation 
of yourself, has envy no ascendancy over you? 
If, however, it be not envy, perhaps it is pride 
which governs you; or if not pride, voluptuous- 



a man's price. 165 

ness ; or if not voluptuousness, yet the love of 
gain and riches ? But if it is not a love for riches, 
may it not be the fear of shame, or the opposite 
disposition — a love of looking down upon your 
fellow-creatures, and a pleasure in witnessing their 
misfortunes ? Alas ! if I was to enumerate the 
whole series of human infirmities, I should find, 
perhaps, more than one price at which you might 
be purchased. Every man may be bought at some 
price : what price is yours ? Have you ever re- 
flected upon the subject ? Lock yourself up in your 
study ; and there, in the silence of conscientious 
meditation, examine at what price you would be 
willing to sell yourself. Examine what may have 
been your conduct during the present year ; I 
require nothing more from you. Render an ac- 
count to yourself of your secret thoughts, and of 
your silent wishes, during that period. You will 
soon recognise those of your infirmities, which, if 
powerfully attacked, would immediately discover 
the price at which you hold your virtue, your 
Christianity, your peace upon earth, and your 
eternal happiness. You shudder, and refuse to 
search within yourself? Oh, if you value your 
virtue, and your present and future felicity, do 
not shrink from this examination of yourself. The 
moment when you discover the true state of your 
soul, your vulnerable side, and the rocks which 



166 a man's price. 

threaten your salvation, that will be a grand and 
decisive moment in the career of your life. The 
moment which arouses your attention, and brings 
back your thoughts and recollection to yourself, 
will decide perhaps whether you will sell yourself 
some day, with all that you may hold sacred, for a 
low price, for the gratification of base passion, for 
worldly scruples, — or whether, master of your own 
heart, you will belong for ever to yourself and 
your God. 

Thou Searcher of all consciences ! I humbly 
prostrate myself before Thee. I am not worthy of 
the mercy that Thou hast shown unto me from my 
earliest childhood. What dignity hast Thou not 
imprinted in my nature, and what trifling value 
do I attach thereto ! I am thy creature, O God — thy 
child, O Father ! Thou who dost load me with 
grace and favour ; and yet I abandon thy grace 
and myself for the sake of a vain possession, an 
abject and gross pleasure ! I am a human being, 
and occupy an honourable position in the scale of 
created beings, elevated above myriads of other 
creatures who are not gifted like myself with rea- 
son, intelligence, and the truth Thou hast revealed 
unto me; but yet, unfaithful to my honour, I 
forget and tread under foot my own dignity for 
objects to which the brute placed below me pays 
no regard or attention. - By my pleasures, by my 



a man's price. 167 

hopes and affections, by my antipathies and desires, 
I too often degenerate into the rank of the unrea- 
soning brute. 

/ am called to immortality ! The gates of eternity 
open before me, and I have access to those blissful 
enjoyments of which here below I can scarcely 
imagine the delight. Thousands of beings of 
another nature die each year around me and at my 
feet. They lived — but are now no more. I alone, 
elevated above them, and enlightened by God, I 
alone am born for immortality. How have I 
merited that privilege, and that preference above 
millions of other creatures? / am freed and 
ransomed from death by the blood of Jesus. The 
God-Man appeared, and showed me the path 
which led towards his Father ; he sanctified my 
spirit by his doctrine ; and his blood, upon Gol- 
gotha, sealed the sacred work of redemption. 
Woe to me who, when temptation allured me, 
lost sight of the doctrine which Jesus designed 
to purify me of my sins ! How little have I 
accomplished of the works of a Christian, whilst 
the words of faith flowed so rapidly from my lips ! 
In order to satisfy an unlawful desire, which 
has soon left me nought else behind but re- 
pentance, I have renounced myself and redemp- 
tion. How often have I shown myself feeble, 
miserable — I, coming from God, created after his 



168 A man's price. 

own image, destined for immortality, and redeemed 
by Jesus ! 

Alas ! what anguish overwhelms me. How am 
I fallen so low? Have I wanted instruction? 
Have I not been warned by the words of Jesus, 
by my father, my mother, and friends ? Have I 
not been instructed bv the fate of others, which, 
presented to me the sad results of injustice ? Why 
have I so rarely exercised over myself a sway 
worthy of the high destinies of man, and by which 
he is alone distinguished from those animals that 
are the slaves of their appetite and of a blind 
instinct? What have I gained by abandoning 
myself to my passions ? The pleasure of a moment, 
and years of pain and regret. Whence does it 
arise that so many persons are afflicted in their 
soul ? Alas ! they have sold themselves for a 
wretched price, and they now must expiate their 
folly — a just chastisement for their voluntary 
slavery. 

Happy for me it is that this hour has so unex- 
pectedly brought me back to myself! I bless thee, 
hour of salvation; thou hast been sent to me by 
divine solicitude and forbearance. I know the 
price for which I constantly run the risk of selling 
myself; grant that I may be enabled to repel it 
far from me ! And if temptation should again 
renew its efforts to degrade me again, I will raise 



A man's price. 169 

my eyes to heaven, and fix them upon my eternal 
destiny — upon Him who inGethsemane shed drops 
of blood : and I will say. How can I commit so 
great an evil, and sin against the Lord my God ? 

I may exchange dust for dust, goods for goods ; 
but never let me exchange the perfection of the 
mind for the satisfaction of vulgar and rude pas- 
sions — never the internal contentment of the soul 
for the momentary intoxication of the senses and 
heart. Of what benefit would be to me the gain 
of the entire world, if I had. at the same time, lost 
possession of my soul ? 

Xo price can purchase the truths proclaimed by 
Jesus, the virtues of the Christian, and the appro- 
bation of God : for what else in the universe can 
have any value if all that is divine cannot command 
its price ! It was for those the God-Man sacrificed 
his holy life when the world of sinners condemned 
him : it was for that the apostles of Jesus died a 
death of torture : it was for that the first martyrs of 
the church endured with joy poverty, persecution. 
shame, chains, torture, and death. It is for that 
the names of these just and magnanimous men 
are inscribed, in letters of gold, in the records of 
heaven and annals of history. Their greatness 
of soul, the power and influence they exercised 
over themselves, delight us even in the present 
day. Yes, there is still something more elevated 



170 a man's price. 

than the power of the world — than the honours of 
the earth — than tons of gold — than the seductions of 
beauty and glory — or any and everything that can 
captivate the senses. Something yet exists which 
cannot be purchased at the price of all those glories 
of life which the voice of passion exalts, and which 
once the tempter offered to Jesus in the desert 
and on the top of the mountain — this is the image 
of God in a virtuous soul, which lifts its thoughts 
and feelings beyond this earthly existence to the 
regions of eternity. 

Alas ! how distant still is my soul from this 
resemblance to God ! Loaded with all the weight 
of my sins, dare I venture, merciful Father, to 
raise my eyes towards thee ? May I venture to 
invoke thee ? Alas ! I tremble at my own degra- 
dation — but thou, beneficent Being, have pity upon 
me, and be merciful to me, a miserable sinner. — 
Amen. 



Z^P=- — 



CIRCUMSPECTION* IN THE CHOICE OF 
FRIENDS. 



Ecclesiasticus, vi. 16. 

M A faithful friend is the medicine of life ; and they that fear the Lord 

shall find him." 

Among good and sensible people, we often hear 
a half-suppressed and sorrowing complaint of the 
want of true friendship, and even of the general 
indisposition that exists for cherishing those affec- 
tionate ties of relationship which attach men more 
intimately one to the other. But is this possible ? 
Do we not find numerous instances of sincere and 
heroic friendship in ancient as well as modern 
times ? Do not all men, more or less, feel the 
desire to love and to be beloved? Does not the 
name of friend continue to be regarded as the title 
of honour which we give to persons we hold most 
dear and estimable ? 

Yes, there is still to be found upon the earth 
true and sincere friendship, both among persons 



172 CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 

cultivated and of correct morals, as well as among 
the rude and more or less sophisticated classes of 
society. We have found examples of faithful recip- 
rocal friendship where we least of all expected to 
meet with such tender feelings — amongst wicked 
and profligate characters, whose hearts have re- 
mained attached to each other until the day of 
their death. 

What, in fact, is life without friendship ? It is 
a desert through which man wanders in solitude, 
where nothing belongs to him ; no person notices 
or sympathises with him, whether in his pleasures 
or his pains; where, doubtlessly, he perceives 
forms resembling himself, but who pass by him 
coldly, as inhabitants of another sphere, with which 
he has no tie of connection. 

But place the most uncultivated and ignorant of 
men in solitude, and he will still desire to have some 
society ; he will not wish to be abandoned to him- 
self. He will demand and return affection; he 
will make even the rocks his confidants, and he 
will tame the wild animals themselves in order to 
gain their attachment and fidelity. Man neither 
can nor will live alone, and without being beloved ; 
he will excite interest and sympathy, without which 
life is but of little value to him. In all that he is, 
he is less for himself than for others. He thirsts 
after their applause : to please them he adorns 



CIRCUMSPECTION IX THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 173 

himself: to merit their gratitude he rushes boldly 
to encounter death. For their approbation he 
sacrifices his repose and his enjoyment. Finally, in 
order not to frighten them from him, he conceals 
the defects which disfigure him. 

Thus, friendship is felt to be desirable and 
necessary everywhere; nature has implanted it 
within our souls; and he who knows not the 
feeling, is an anomaly in human nature ; a monster, 
and a being without reason or sentiment. This 
necessity develops itself from earliest infancy ; and 
the child itself places a general confidence in the 
heart of man and his affections, equally as it opens 
its own heart to whoever evinces kindness and 
benevolence towards it. But with its growing 
experience, its timidity likewise increases. Re- 
pulsed by the rude exterior of man, or by his 
indifference, and often deceived, it retires within 
itself. The young man refuses to none his confi- 
dence and affection ; but, at the same time, he does 
not calculate upon a return, although it is the 
desire of his heart. He longs for, at least, one 
soul to unite itself with his own, to which he may 
confide himself entirely, and communicate his 
wishes and plans ; with which he may exchange 
consolation and affection — one, in fact, who by 
affectionate solicitude may assist him to walk in the 
path of life with more firmness, confidence, and joy. 



174 CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 

Whence, therefore, does it arise that amidst this 
universal desire, felt by every mortal, to possess a 
faithful friend, by whom he may be sincerely loved 
and appreciated, and by whom, however he may be 
misunderstood by others, he never can be miscon- 
ceived, the complaint is found to be so general of 
the want of pure and genuine friendship ? 

You, who make this complaint, ought, before 
you condemn those who are its object, to examine 
well whom you are most justified in condemning. 
Examine yourself first if, on every occasion, you have 
yourself proved to be a sure and faithful friend. 
Reflect, and consider well what you may have 
been to others ; ascertain if, in contracting a tie of 
friendship, you have not yielded to a sort of 
exalted and enthusiastic expectation, and if your 
exactions from that friend have not been unjust; 
whether the friend you had chosen was capable of 
responding completely to your ideas ; whether, in 
forming this bond of friendship, you have not been 
guided more by vague and fantastic feelings than 
by prudent and discreet motives ; and whether you 
have not deceived yourself far more than you have 
been deceived by your friend. 

The germ which produces the rupture of a connection 
is usually planted the moment this union is formed. At 
such a moment we are rarely in possession of the 
requisite calmness and reflection ; friendships are 



CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 175 

often formed on occasions when the heart, elated 
with joy, unfolds itself in spite of the whole world ; 
and, captivated by the prepossessing and attractive 
exterior of our acquaintance, we feel an impatient 
desire to become his friend. The agreeable impres- 
sion made upon our mind soon becomes more and 
more forcible; it produces within us the most 
flattering and seducing illusions ; and we crown 
our error in attributing to the cherished individual 
various virtues which elevate him, in our opinion, 
above ourselves. Often our flattered vanity makes 
us desirous to form a friendship with a person 
generally distinguished and admired ; and we 
imagine ourselves exalted in the opinion of others, 
if we can boast of having inspired him with esteem, 
confidence, and attachment. 

But mature reflection does not always sanction 
and confirm a union contracted under the seduc- 
tion of such deceptive feelings. Doubtlessly, you 
ought to attach yourself to your friend with all 
your heart; but it is your reason which should 
guide your choice. The sentiment by which you are 
influenced never judges, but blindly demands 
wjiat it wishes, excited and subdued by external 
delights, or by vanity. Eeason, on the contrary, 
desires nothing it does not intimately know — 
nothing it has not thoroughly examined in all its 
bearings. The impression a prepossessing indivi- 



176 CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 

dual makes upon us easily seduces the imagination, 
and we take this impression as a guarantee for a 
multitude of other good qualities; not that the 
person appeared to us to be worthy of our friend- 
ship on account of these merits, but because without 
them we should cease to think him amiable, and 
we are resolved to give him our hand of friendship. 

This is one of the most common errors observed 
in forming a friendship, particularly in youth, 
when the heart is excited by its warm and enthu- 
siastic emotions, and when the imagination exercises 
dominion over the reason. Such cases are most 
frequent amongst young people of different sexes, 
because the awakening propensities and inclina- 
tions of nature combine with the general desire of 
friendship, vanity, and self-love ; and the feelings 
thus excited get beyond control, and thenceforth 
sway with all the power of a passion. 

But when, by means of repeated experience, 
our reason is undeceived, and, becoming more 
enlightened, it gains the requisite strength for pro- 
moting our real happiness, time then gradually 
and unobservedly subdues this warmth of feeling. 
In proportion to the progression of reason, and 
the diminution of a too active sensibility, the 
apparent happiness of marriages which are con- 
cluded with imprudent haste and rashness, gra- 
dually dwindles away. Custom, and the monotony 



CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 177 

of daily habit, satiate, at length, all desire ; and 
unhappy, indeed, is the individual who is not able 
to find in the object beloved aught to satisfy the 
enduring demands of reason ! "Woe to us if, in 
the uniformity of life, the brilliant illusions with 
which we charmed our mind vanish ; if, to gratify 
a blind passion, instead of attaching ourselves to 
lasting worth and merit, we have sacrificed to out- 
ward attractions liberty, the esteem of friends, the 
affection of our family, the means of becoming 
useful members of society, and every prospect of 
future peace and comfort ! 

Let your friendship be the effect of your own free 
choice. Your selection of a friend, whether male 
or female, can never, however, be free and optional 
as long as your judgment is enchained by your 
senses, your vanity, and egotism. The preference 
dictated by passion ceases with the passion. If 
you cannot rely on your own strength, then have 
recourse to more enlightened and impartial advice. 

Whilst the heart blindly craves a reciprocity of 
affection, reason should prudently urge us to shun 
an intimacy where we feel it is doubtful the party 
may please us equally when the attractions by 
which we were first captivated have passed away. 
If it be the charms of face and form which have 
seduced you, imagine to yourself those features 
and that figure changed by disease or accident to 



178 CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 

deformity. Is it rank and external circumstances 
which have influenced your choice ? then ask your- 
self if you would still love that person, supposing 
she were subsequently placed in an inferior station 
of life to yourself. Or is it the gold possessed by 
the person you wish to call your friend that has 
attracted you ? if so, then demand of yourself if, 
when deprived of that qualification, you will view 
that friend with the same partiality of affection. 

To ensure a lasting friendship it is especially neces- 
sary that there he equality of station. No doubt, we 
can love and esteem persons in a high or low rank 
of society with the same sincerity as our equals ; 
we may inspire them with the esteem they confer 
upon those of their own condition. Nevertheless, 
there is an important difference between such 
feelings and the more confiding sentiments which 
create and justify a more intimate friendship. 

When fortune distributes unequally its favours 
to two old friends, we do not always find the more 
favoured disacknowledge the rights of his friend 
who still remains in obscurity, nor refuse him his 
affection : nevertheless, the inequality of their 
position may alter the sincerity of their reciprocal 
relations, and prejudice or even terminate their 
intimacy altogether. It is necessary that, between 
friends, an equal proportion of confidence should 
exist. But how long can this confidence last, if one 



CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 179 

friend acquires the right of command, and the 
other, in duty, is forced to obey ? Can a magistrate, 
promoted to dignity, continue to retain without 
danger, as a confidant, one of his subordinate 
officers, and entrust to him his own affairs ? How 
many cases there are, where a superior is forced 
to exercise towards his inferiors an exact and 
rigorous justice ! Can the course of justice ever 
be allowed to be arrested by what may be thought 
a claim of friendship ? Is the man, high in official 
dignity and influence, ever assured that there is 
not, perhaps, selfishness in the attachment shown 
towards him by his subordinate? Does not the 
inferior in office feel vexed and mortified when his 
superior, whom he calls his friend, attentive to the 
imperious rules of etiquette, treats him, in public, 
as a stranger, and with an air of indifference? 
Thence it is said, and not without reason, that it 
is very rare that sovereigns possess true friends ; 
for rare, indeed, are the subjects sufficiently wise 
to attach themselves to a sovereign without any 
views of interest : and rare enough do we find the 
monarch sufficiently good or happy to inspire 
affection in the heart of a true sage, born amidst 
the class of his subjects. 

Experience has sufficiently proved, that sincere 
and lasting friendships are more easily formed 
between persons of opposite character and different 

N 2 



180 CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 

opinions, than between those separated merely by 
the distinctions of sex and condition of life. 

But all contracted friendships must totter at 
their foundation, if they are not, above all things, 
based upon a mutually real and sincere esteem, 
justified by true merit ; for it is indubitable merit 
recognised in a friend, which alone can excite real 
esteem and lasting attachment. He that has more 
infirmities than ourselves will appear to us des- 
picable, as soon as the glare which dazzled our eyes 
has vanished. There are many who are more skilled 
in making friends than retaining them. They 
gain the heart by their prepossessing manners, the 
brilliancy of their wit, and their instructive con- 
versation, which render their society agreeable 
and entertaining : but perhaps these graces are but 
a robe of ceremony, which they lay aside as soon as 
they have quitted strange company, and can, with- 
out offending decency, give themselves up to their 
own caprices, their low desires, and their unstable 
and irregular inclinations. The inexperienced are 
at first delighted and charmed; but when they have 
time to observe them more closely, they blush at 
their previous credulity and weakness. 

The tender inclination and desire for friendship 
which God has planted within our heart, are in 
themselves nothing more or less than a secret 
incentive to aid in concert together towards good, 



CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 181 

and to work for our mutual perfection. As long 
as this divine feeling stimulates us to strive for 
our own ennoblement, that we may be still more 
worthy of the esteem of the person we love, friend- 
ship is a source of blessings ; but this source 
becomes exhausted and dried up the moment 
we cease to find in a friend, or possess ourselves, 
those qualities which render such a union esti- 
mable. 

Therefore, if we would make a happy choice, let 
us only give our friendly confidence to one whom ice 
have long known, and whom we have had opportunities 
of observing in various situations of life. The 
external advantages of figure, the charm of con- 
versation, riches, and reputation, are not sure and 
certain guarantees of sincerity and constancy in 
friendship. These guarantees are found only in 
most convincing proofs of virtuous sentiments, of 
steady firmness of character, of discretion, and 
disinterestedness. Woe to us, if we do not base 
our relations of friendship upon these qualities, 
which form its most firm and lasting support ! if, 
carried away by the impetuosity of our heart, or 
seduced by an ardent imagination, we believe in 
the reality of the fantastic virtues with which we 
love to invest the person whom we fancy to be 
worthy of our friendship, because we wish to find 
him amiable. Alas ! sooner or later, we must 



182 CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 

expiate our folly with lamentation, mortification, 
and regret. 

It is the more necessary that we should be on 
our guard in this respect, as we cannot conceal 
from ourselves that the least interruption of an 
intimacy or the relations of friendly confidence, 
may be followed by consequences most injurious to 
domestic peace and happiness of life. A mere trifle 
may break for ever the bond of friendship ; an 
apparent coldness, a little reserve, some involuntary 
negligence, or unhappy mistake, and the injurious 
intermeddling of some officious tatler and gossip ; 
either of these, or even less important causes, are 
quite sufficient to produce an eternal estrange- 
ment between the most intimate friends. And if 
your friend ceases to be such, or if he to whom you 
have opened without any reserve the secrets of 
your heart, has ceased to merit your esteem, what 
becomes of this your second self — the depository 
of all your secrets, the sympathising confidant of 
all your foibles and failings? Are you sure that 
his character is worthy of the esteem you have 
accorded to him? Who will guarantee that he 
will never abuse the confidence you have placed 
in him ? And even if, after the cessation of 
your connection, he does not betray you, will you 
not still experience some inquietude of mind to 
know that you have placed yourself in his power, 



CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 183 

and that you cannot make yourself quite inde- 
pendent of him ? 

What mature reflection ought therefore to pre- 
cede the choice of an intimate and confidential 
friend ! The evils and misfortunes of many 
families have been produced through the rupture 
of friendships too hastily and easily formed. A 
tender and faithful attachment unto death, can 
only be found to exist where high strength of 
character is combined with pious and pure virtue. 

Happy indeed is he to whom this privilege has 
been granted, to whose lot this happiness has 
fallen ; and truly may we repeat : t€ A faithful 
friend is the medicine of life ; and they that fear 
the Lord shall find him." 

O Thou most holy of beings ! only he who 
adores and loves Thee with filial love, who shuns 
the path of sin, is capable of this pure and noble 
friendship, the blossoms of which are far above 
the dust of the earth, and the fruits of which 
ripen unto eternity. All that is of the earth, and 
springs therefrom, is transitory and perishes ; and 
thus pass away the enjoyments and pleasures of 
beauty, pride, and selfishness. But virtue remains 
imperishable, as well as the friendship founded 
upon virtue ; whilst evil cannot attach itself firmly 
to evil, for how unite by an indissoluble tie that 
which, divided in itself, bears in itself the germ of 



184 CIRCUMSPECTION IN THE CHOICE OF FRIENDS. 

destruction ? But virtue remains united to virtue, 
and good to good; for they participate in Thy 
nature, O Divine Love, Thou that purifiest all 
things in thy divine essence ! Holy and paternal 
friend of thy creatures, I will love Thee with a 
tender and religious love until my last sigh ; and 
thus the happiness of a virtuous and true friend- 
ship shall remain my portion for ever ! — Amen. 



DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 



Proverbs, xxv. 9. 

c ' Debate thy cause with thy neighbour himself; and discover not a 

secret to another." 

Our inconsiderate and mischievous carelessness 
in the words we use is a cause, which too often 
escapes observation, of numerous misunderstand- 
ings and schisms, which affect as well ourselves 
individually as the world generally. What vexa- 
tion and animosity do we not produce, without 
perhaps being aware of it, through a too candid 
and incautious sincerity ! Thence, for guidance 
through life, one of the most important rules is 
that which is pointed out to us by the Holy Scrip- 
ture, and which is recommended to us for adoption 
in the following words : " For he that will love 
life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue 
from evil, and his lips that he speak no guile/' 
(1 Peter iii. 10.) 

To speak well is an art ; but to be silent is more 



186 DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 

consummate skill : " For in many things we offend 
all. If any man offend not in word, the same is 
a perfect man, and able also to bridle the whole 
body." (James iii. 2.) 

Speak when it is requisite ; but be silent when 
to speak would be injurious. This short maxim 
embraces two equally important and valuable vir- 
tues, sincerity and discretion in conversation. 

In passing through our cities and our villages, 
what distrust and suspicion do we not everywhere 
encounter ! With what mistrust does not each 
regard the other ! What hypocrisy and deception 
may there not be observed in the smiles that pass 
from one to the other ! Whence arises this want 
of confidence and cordiality ? To this we answer, 
that the cause may be traced to one of two evils, or 
to both : a too thoughtless and inconsiderate use 
of speech, or a silence observed and maintained 
at unseasonable moments. 

How many families, formerly intimately con- 
nected, are at present at variance, and separated 
from each other, by bitter animosity! And yet 
neither fraud nor oppression is the cause. What, 
then, has produced this division? Incautious and 
imprudent conversation ! 

You complain of the want of true and faithful 
friends ; you murmur at the coldness, nay hatred, 
observed towards you, and of the false interpreta- 



DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 187 

tions given to all your words. You know not 
wherefore you have merited this treatment; for 
you are convinced within yourself that you feel 
charitably towards all, and have a willing promp- 
titude to assist all who require your aid, and are 
ever on the alert to act friendly towards your 
associates and neighbours ; in fact, you feel nothing 
wherewith to reproach yourself, and yet, never- 
theless, you are treated with neglect and suspicion. 
How is this ? Because, no doubt, in some moment 
of irritation, you have thoughtlessly allowed your 
tongue too great a licence, or you have inconside- 
rately pronounced an opinion and judgment upon 
this or that person, which has produced a dislike 
towards you from the object of your remarks, and 
excited the distrust and ill-will of those who may 
have witnessed the candid but too hearty expression 
of your observations. Perhaps you may not be 
able to recollect either the particular words you 
have used, nor even the circumstance of having 
acted so imprudently. The language which in the 
heat of conversation you may have dropped, but to 
which you attached no value, because it emanated 
from no bad motive, has, doubtlessly, become 
completely obliterated from your memory. But 
let it ever be remembered, that he who fights with 
his sword in battle may quite forget the enemies 
he has wounded ; but those who suffer from the 



188 DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 

wounds he has inflicted, continue to remember 
them as long as the scars remain. 

Therefore, let every Christian, in his intercourse 
with the world, regulate his conduct according to 
the rule pointed out by holy Scripture : Cf Debate 
thy cause with thy neighbour himself, and discover 
not a secret to another." 

We generally form to ourselves completely false 
notions of the discretion we should use in our 
conversation ; inasmuch as we imagine it merely 
consists in the observance of silence upon the 
confidential communication made to us by our 
friends with respect to their plans, their connec- 
tions, and the circumstances of their position. We 
fancy we have already merited the reputation of 
being discreet, if we hold sacred the information 
we may have received expressly under the seal of 
secrecy. 

But such, however, is not the case. He alone 
acts with true discretion, who preserves secret 
within his breast what he knows to be secret, whe- 
ther it may have been confided to him as such, or 
whether he has himself discovered it to be so. 
The wise man, however, considers as secret every 
thing a person may wish not to be known, from 
the fear that its communication may produce pre- 
judicial results. Therefore, do not consider your- 
self at all authorised to reveal what others may 



DISCRETION IN CON YERSATION. 189 

wish to be kept secret, unless a more important 
and imperious duty commands you to make the 
communication. 

Amongst the number of subjects which we are 
unwilling to make public, and which we deem it 
right to keep secret, we must not only include our 
several schemes and plans, which, if they be made 
known too prematurely, might be frustrated, but 
also domestic incidents and events, affairs of pro- 
perty and certain connections, with a thousand 
different other matters, which we never wish to 
have the world to know ; because, too often, the 
most malignant interpretation is given to what 
may be most innocent and pure in itself, and upon 
which evil-minded persons are too happy to place 
a wrong and dangerous construction. Further, our 
vices, our errors and infirmities, of which we feel 
ashamed, and which we struggle to overcome, but 
which we never could wish to exhibit before the 
public eye, belong to the number of secrets we 
desire to hold sacred ; and, finally, we must add 
to the same class such language and opinions as 
are expressed in confidential circles, which, how- 
ever true and correct, must produce the most 
injurious consequences if made publicly known. 

Thus, then, you are bound to consider every- 
thing secret which for a moment you believe 
might, by its communication, create pain and dis- 



190 DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 

pleasure in the mind of another ; and in this sense 
you ought to act with the same regard for the 
interest of others, as you would wish to see ob- 
served towards yourself. Xo person has the right 
to make known the affairs of others, if they them- 
selves wish them to be held secret. The confi- 
dential communication made to you is not your 
own property; to communicate it to the public 
against the will or knowledge of your friends, is 
to commit an offence, and to infringe their rights. 

An immoderate inclination for talking is usually 
the result of a degenerate vivacity of mind and 
character ; more frequently, however, it is pro- 
duced by a desire to become important in the 
eyes of others^ and to make a display of the 
opinions held ; and very often it arises from 
wickedness and a malicious pleasure. 

It is, therefore, generally reasonable to attribute 
badness of heart to those who take delight in 
divulging the actions and words of others, which 
ought more properly to be kept private ; or who 
make the subject of their conversation the infirmi- 
ties and errors of their neighbours, and reveal such 
domestic transactions and circumstances as ought 
to be held sacred. 

While we keep silence upon the affairs of 
others, we should likewise avoid publishing any- 
thing which may raise a prejudice against them; 



DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 191 

making it a law never to express an unfavourable 
opinion upon the conduct or character of any per- 
son, until you have very maturely considered it. 
Be cautious never to repeat, even within the circle 
of your most intimate friends, any words or opi- 
nions, if they are connected with the interests of 
persons unknown to you, or if you at all suppose 
that they have resulted from imprudence, or if 
that, by repeating them, you may injure your 
neighbour; as the conduct of others does not 
authorise you to imitate them. 

Should you happen to be present when in con- 
versation censures are expressed against your 
neighbour, take no share in the discourse, if you 
are not in a state to defend substantially and upon 
a sure footing, but at the same time with modesty, 
the reputation you hear attacked. Silence itself is 
often the greatest eloquence, and finds its reward 
in the esteem of intelligent men ; besides, it never 
excites hatred. Sooner or later, the person whose 
conduct has undergone such scrutiny, must hear of 
the conversation in which he has been commented 
upon, and he will know how to appreciate and 
honour a silence, equally wise and considerate. 
You will find that by this you have gained the 
heart of your neighbour, without having found it 
necessary even to open your mouth in his defence. 

There are cases wherein it is impossible to 



192 DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 

avoid discussing the affairs of others. On such 
occasions, whether in public or in private society, 
make it your duty to point out especially all the 
good you know of those persons ; dwell upon 
their better qualities, the friendly and indulgent 
opinions they have expressed of others, and their 
individual acts of kindness. The praises you 
bestow will conciliate the affection and esteem of 
your audience ; you will inculcate sentiments of 
friendship and concord ; you will increase mutual 
complacency, and you will yourself have the 
gratification of culling the richest fruits of this 
good work ; for you will have gained the friend- 
ship of him towards whom you have rendered 
justice, as well as that of his old and newly- created 
friends. 

Be careful to avoid, rather than to seek every 
occasion to learn the secrets of others ; for the less 
you know, the more tranquil will you feel within 
yourself, and the more open and sincerely will you 
act in all your dealings. The mere circumstance 
of possessing a secret will expose you to the danger 
of betraying it, without wishing to do so, either by 
some look or overt act, which will cause you a 
blush of confusion and greatly embarrass you. 
At other times it will place you under the painful 
obligation of appearing as a witness, and thus 
involve you in difficulties productive of the most 



DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 193 

injurious consequences. But often, however strictly 
you may have observed the silence imposed upon 
you, it causes you to run the risk of appearing 
in the eyes of the world as a traitor, if others, 
without any conscience, treacherously reveal the 
secret they may have shared with you ; for there 
are too many who are thoughtless enough to con- 
fide their secrets to more than one or two indi- 
viduals. Thus, although you may be innocent 
yourself, yet the- fact of your being associated with 
such men in confidential communication, will 
cause you the loss of the confidence of honest 
men ! 

If by means of your profession, your per- 
sonal connexions, and your general observations, 
you are made acquainted with some circumstance 
which the person whom it regards wishes or 
ought to keep secret, banish it from your mind, 
and force yourself to forget it. Conceal even 
from yourself what you ought to conceal from 
others; and fly from every opportunity which 
might lead to the belief that you are initiated in 
the secret. Do not confide it to your most inti- 
mate friend, for you cannot know how long his 
friendship may continue. 

We are not permitted to reveal the secrets of 
others, except when a superior duty commands us 
to do so ; for instance, in the case where such an 



194 DISCRETION EH CONVERSATION. 

exposure is demanded by law and the autho- 
rity of the common weal; for here silence would 
become a crime. It is a duty to speak when the 
secret with which we are acquainted contains 
dangerous plans against the rights of mankind. 
To be silent would make us accessaries to the 
work of wickedness, and thus concur in the 
destruction of society. It is our duty to speak 
when we know the mode of thinking and the 
position of persons in whom others place an exces- 
sive and dangerous confidence. In such circum- 
stances, it is the duty of the friend of humanity 
to step forward and communicate to his neighbour 
the information he has to give, and to warn him 
of the danger with which he is threatened. It is, 
finally, our duty to break this silence when we can 
unmask vice, and when its observance would only 
confirm persons in their corruption, and strengthen 
them in their malice and selfishness, ever ready to 
create misfortune and to interrupt the happiness 
of others. To conceal vice in such cases, and 
permit it to remain unpunished, would be to 
favour the evil to the prejudice of the good. 

These are the only circumstances which sanction 
the disclosure of secrets at our command, or the 
expression of our opinion upon the infirmities, 
the plans, the intentions, and the position of those 
connected therewith. - These disclosures become 



DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 195 

condemnable when their object is merely to amuse 
society at the expense of those who may be absent, 
or when they are made by the relator the vehicle 
of a certain self-importance in the eyes of those 
that listen to him. Thus we degrade ourselves to 
the rank of those indiscreet and dangerous talkers 
against whom sensible persons arm themselves 
with all possible prudence. We can attribute to 
our own conduct only, the hatred of our numerous 
enemies, the contempt of our contemporaries, and 
the general suspicion excited which paralyses 
talents and efforts that might otherwise be con- 
secrated to the production of good. 

To be discreet in yourself and your own affairs, is 
also a duty imposed upon man for the interest of 
his happiness and repose. Sincerity is incontest- 
ably a virtue ; but there can be no real virtue if it 
be not accompanied with prudence. 

To live happily, be silent upon the happiness 
you enjoy. Be cautious in too hastily confiding 
to others the prosperous state of your circum- 
stances ; you will only draw against you the envy 
and disfavour of persons where you least expect 
it- Be also, on the other hand, extremely careful 
not to reveal to others, without due reflection, 
the embarrassed position of your affairs ; for you 
will, otherwise, run a risk to lose your credit, and 
deprive yourself of the means of extricating 
o 2 



196 DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 

yourself. Do not, again, imprudently communicate 
your intentions and plans ; for many have witnessed 
the complete disappointment of all their hopes and 
expectations, through the malice and envy of men 
to whom they have too prematurely made known 
their views and projects. Motives were invented 
for them which they never contemplated, their 
honest wishes were misinterpreted, and the efficacy 
of all their endeavours was rendered unavailable 
through mockery and derision. 

Be silent upon the subject of your own infirmities 
and faults : to boast of your follies and vices is but 
poor and senseless glory. But we, nevertheless, 
often hear persons talk, in a lively style, of their 
errors and vicious propensities. 

It is not wise or proper to make known your 
affairs, except when silence might produce injurious 
consequences, and when it becomes a duty to com- 
municate to another your thoughts, ideas, and 
your circumstances, that he may not form, either 
to the detriment of you or himself, an opinion too 
favourable or too injurious. 

Preserve silence upon your own affairs, without, 
however, letting it affect the good understanding 
which must promote, and which it must be your 
object to maintain, in all your commercial relations 
of life. Be communicative, wherever you can be 
so without producing inconvenience or annoyance. 



DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 197 

You run but little risk, when you speak only from 
pure and good motives. 

Be discreet upon your own affairs where prema- 
ture communication might rouse against your 
plans enemies who may still be asleep. But let 
not this be a motive for enveloping under the veil 
of mystery all your designs and intentions: an 
excess of circumspection produces effects equally 
vexatious to the want of caution. If you adopt 
the habit of attaching to the most trivial matters 
the importance of secrets, you expose yourself to 
the danger of being punished by ridicule. 

Be discreet in your own affairs, and in those of 
others, when their communication might produce 
injury ; and you will thus gain the esteem of all 
honest men. No person has ever conciliated 
friendship and love by a too honest and open- 
hearted communication of his own secrecs or those 
of others; but, on the contrary, he has excited 
the just and natural suspicion that he who divulges, 
without occasion, his own affairs, cannot be silent 
upon the circumstances of others. And even those 
themselves who seek to draw the secrets from him, 
far from praising his sincerity, treat him as a fool, 
and make a bad use of his imprudence as soon as 
a profitable opportunity offers itself. 

To be " as wise as the serpent, and simple as 
the dove," is what thou, O Jesus, didst recommend 



198 DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 

thy disciples ; Thou who hast shown and taught 
supreme wisdom in thy earthly career ! And I, 
too, feel how necessary it is to my repose, and 
the happiness of those that surround me, that I 
should learn to make a prudent use of my tongue ; 
to speak only at proper periods, and to be silent 
at seasonable moments. I feel that inconsiderate 
candour and open-heartedness, far from being 
virtue, are too often treachery towards my fellow- 
creatures. 

Henceforth, therefore, I will make circumspec- 
tion of speech one of my first Christian duties 
and laws in my intercourse with men. For it is 
my duty, Lord, my Divine Example, to imitate 
Thee, and spread happiness around me in the 
world with all my power. But the tongue which 
poisons confidence and sows discord and aversion? 
destroys the peace and concord which ought to 
unite the hearts of men to each other. 

What right have I to withdraw the veil which 
conceals the secrets of my brethren, and thus 
discover to the eyes of the world the infirmities 
they would have wished to remain unknown 
even to themselves ? How painfully does it hurt 
and mortify my feelings when my faults and 
transgressions are made known, without any pity 
or charity, to the whole world, and I am thus for 
ever deprived of the esteem and confidence of good 



DISCRETION IN CONVERSATION. 199 

and worthy men ! Let us, therefore, be cautious, 
not to do unto others what we would not they 
should do unto us ! This, my Saviour, thou 
hast taught ; and it shall, in future, be the rule of 
my conduct through life. — Amen. 



J 

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NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 



St. Luke, xxii. 55, 56, 57. 
" And when they had kindled a fire in the midst of the hall, and were 
set down together, Peter sat down among them. But a certain 
maid beheld him as he sat by the fire, and earnestly looked upon 
him, and said, This man was also with him. And he denied 
him, saying, "Woman, I know him not." 

A servant maid, on seeing the disciple of Jesus 
seated near the fire in the house of the high priest, 
while Christ awaited the sentence of death, and a 
similar fate threatened all his disciples, exclaimed, 
" And this man was also with him." But Peter, 
full of fear and terror, renounced the Messiah, 
and said, " Woman, I know Mm not! 9n 

Exposed as he was to imminent and fatal danger, 
did Peter act rightly to renounce his Master and 
say, I know him not? Perhaps every one who 
reads or hears these words, will exclaim aloud, 
" Far be from me such language ! I, in his place, 
would never have denied my Saviour ! " But 
manv will think in their heart, ". Could he have 



NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 201 

acted otherwise ? Was lie not certain of running 
the same risk of cruel sacrifice in speaking the 
truth? Did he not already read the condem- 
nation of Jesus upon the lips of all the witnesses 
and judges ? Could he have saved Jesus from 
the fury of the Jews by his confession ? Was it 
not reasonable that he should endeavour, at least, 
to save his own life ? Did not an opportune false- 
hood become here a duty, or was it not commanded 
by prudence ? " 

Thus many, placing themselves in the difficult 
situation of the disciple, may think within them- 
selves, although ashamed to say so openly. But 
Peter, as soon as he had recovered from his first 
alarm, found that what he had done was both 
unjust and imprudent, and, deeply penetrated 
with the error he had committed, he wept bit- 
terly. He felt that he had not returned the 
immense love of Jesus. Where is the father 
who, loving his child, would renounce it in the 
moment of danger ? Where is the mother who, 
inspired by her maternal devotion, would not 
expose her own life to save that of her child, or 
would abandon it in the hour of danger ? True 
affection forgets and sacrifices all, and only thinks 
of the one beloved object. Peter felt he had not 
returned to Jesus love for love. He painfully 
felt that he had not only shown a want of love, 



202 NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 

but also of justice, to Jesus; for the object here 
was not merely the salvation of his own life, or 
that of Jesus, but also to render homage to the 
truth which Jesus had so intrepidly avowed before 
the enraged judges. The step most important to 
be taken was to oppose false witnesses with true 
witnesses, who would come forward and say, 
" Yes, this Jesus is the Messiah, the Christ, and 
the Saviour of the world ! " It was necessary, in 
order to encourage the faithful, to show publicly 
that the disciples were animated by his spirit, 
and were ready to sacrifice their lives, and every- 
thing they possessed, for the Truth. But Peter, 
although persuaded of the truth of the doctrine 
of Jesus, and of the power of its virtue to save 
sinners, had not the courage to become the first 
martyr for his religion. Must not Christ himself 
have appeared to have lost his authority in the 
eyes of his enemies, who beheld not one of his 
disciples possessed of sufficient resolution to 
acknowledge him at the decisive moment ? How 
could he inspire with his divine word the whole 
of Israel, and humanity itself, he who had not 
even animated with his fire his most intimate 
friends and his own disciples ? All this Peter 
had not considered in the first moment of his 
agitation; and the tears of shame and repentance 
came too late. 



NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 203 

But Peter denied Jesus in the first excitement 
of the moment. How many disciples of that 
Divine Master renounce him still, in the present 
day, before the world, and that, too, deliberately ! 

Jesus no longer exists in person amongst us, 
but his spirit continues to live in his doctrine. 
He who abjures the faith and truth which Jesus 
preached, denies Jesus himself. The lukewarm- 
ness which is evinced in our days, in the practice 
of Christianity, leads to our bending its principles 
to circumstances and seasons. We do not con- 
form in our life and actions to our religion, but 
we make our religion yield to the influence of our 
life and actions. We do not adapt ourselves to 
eternal and immutable virtue, but we make virtue 
bend to our convenience. Instead of love to man 
and the wisdom of God, we possess only sordid 
selfishness, and an artful cunning, which we dig- 
nify by the name of prudence. 

Thence originate the maxims, which have grown 
into proverbs, and which strikingly prove the 
moral degeneration of Christians ; as, for instance, 
" Necessity has no law; 55 "We must make a 
virtue of necessity. 55 Which means, that in cer- 
tain circumstances crime should pass for virtue, 
and black for white ; and, in order to justify this 
deception and falsehood, we try a necessary lie / 

When any person, without himself possessing 



204 NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 

any eminent and real merit, seeks to make him- 
self appreciated by a display of words, or by the 
fame of certain actions, and thus monopolise pub- 
lic consideration, he, in his vanity and hypocrisy, 
expresses himself to this effect : " Prudence com- 
mands this of me. I deceive the world, because 
it must be deceived ; it is, in fact, a necessary 
falsehood. As it is useful to me, it is therefore 
good." 

Another, again, as yet but little infected by the 
corruption of the age, or at least still susceptible 
of virtuous principles, finds himself, perhaps by 
accident, in bad society. He there hears attacks 
made against the honour and name of known per- 
sons; the most shameful acts are attributed to 
them without any proof, and merely from the 
most simple appearances ; and a pride is taken in 
repeating everything that is known by hearsay 
only. If, out of politeness, he joins in the busy 
slander — if he smiles assent to the indecent and 
improper remarks made, and those equivocal ex- 
pressions at which virtue itself must blush — and 
if, amidst his licentious and debauched compa- 
nions, he makes himself their associate in their 
excesses by a false point of honour, in order not 
to be railed and scoffed at as an image of virtue, 
he will say, in order to excuse the weakness of 
his character : "Prudence requires me to act thus. 



NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 205 

I must howl with the wolves. I hate to do so, 
certainly ; it is contrary to my inclinations, but it 
is a necessary falsehood." 

It often happens, too, that a person whose con- 
science remains very delicate and susceptible as 
long as the matter at issue is the conduct to be 
reprehended in others, very readily excuses him- 
self for the falsehood he himself practises in his 
dealings with men, in giving bad articles for good, 
and extorting extravagant interest for his money, 
with the plea : te Necessity has no law ; charity 
begins at home ; and these little tricks are allowed 
in trade." 

And, in conclusion, it frequently happens that 
a person, when he redoubles his flattery towards 
one whom he detests in his heart, until he has at 
length caught him within his net ; when he pours 
incense upon the injustice of those high in autho- 
rity who abuse their power, by which means he 
confirms and strengthens them in their evil ; and 
when, from human weakness and fear, he refrains 
from doing honour to truth before his friends as 
well as his enemies, he says : ■■ The great have 
commanding power ; I have no occasion to sacri- 
fice myself. Why should I make myself enemies ? 
Necessity often obliges us to say many things we 
don't mean." 

Thus, ordinarily, the men of our days endeavour 



206 NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 

to excuse and palliate their infirmities ; thus 
Christians, even to the present time, deny Jesus, 
their Saviour, and yet hope for salvation. Then 
they overcrowd with their presence their various 
places of devotion, and calculate upon being saved 
by the merits and virtues of Him whom they daily 
crucify with their guilty passions and desires. 
They then continue to deceive themselves, as long 
as they can, sometimes with the pretext of the 
duties of a pretended wisdom, sometimes in creat- 
ing a superstitious and sensual religion of their 
own imagination, sometimes in maintaining that 
the merits of the Eedeemer alone can save man, 
without the necessity of any exertion himself 
towards his .salvation, and sometimes in hoping 
to reach heaven through participating in the holy 
sacrament, or through long prayers. No, no, 
ye blind men, be not misled; God is not to be 
treated with such mockery ! Christ has solemnly 
denounced your error, and your easy and accom- 
modating religion, which consists in believing all 
that you wish to believe, and doing nothing which 
is contrary to your feelings, habits, and pusillani- 
mity. He himself has declared, " Wherefore by 
their fruits ye shall know them. Not every one 
that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the 
kingdom of heaven ;' but he that doeth the will of 
my Father which is in heaven." (Matt. vii. 20, 21.) 



NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 207 

It is not, however, to be denied that cases occur 
in which even the honest may hesitate as to the 
course which it is most proper for them to take. 
Not only prudence sometimes forbids the rigor- 
ous performance of ordinary precepts, but, what 
is still more important, it may occur that a too 
great adherence to truth, in word and acts, be- 
comes opposed to duties of a higher order. 

There are certainly circumstances in which it 
would be more culpable to confess the truth than 
to conceal it. Who would not, in the case of a 
dangerously sick father, the support and only hope 
of his anxious family, seek to preserve his life by 
fresh assurances, rather than by the communica- 
tion of the shame of one of his children, cut short 
at once the days of his existence ? In everything 
we should use circumspection, and adopt a medium. 
There are certain superior duties to which we ought 
to make inferior duties subservient ; and it is highly 
important to be able to distinguish between these 
two classes in the intercourse of life. 

It does not require a profound knowledge of the 
world," rare wisdom, or extraordinary intelligence, 
to obviate a mistake with respect to the relative 
importance of these duties. No : Christianity is not 
a science of such difficult study. Jesus preached 
his doctrine to the most simple amongst the people, 
and he was understood by them. He did not 



208 NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 

select learned and scientific men for his disciples, 
but men of low origin and mean education. And 
yet, they nevertheless became great and wise 
through his word, by that word which we still 
possess, to make us also wise and blessed. 

There is no necessity either for long meditation 
or particular wisdom to enable us to distinguish 
between superior and inferior duties, or to know 
whether in certain cases it is better to avow or to 
conceal the truth. For, in life, when forced to act 
upon the spur of the moment, we cannot always 
find leisure to reflect at any length upon the choice 
of the course which it may be most advantageous 
to adopt. Who can even foresee if the conse- 
quences of an act may prove useful or injurious ? 
And who, in every or any case, would receive what 
is expedient as the measure of virtue? Expediency 
in general, as well as the consequences of actions, 
are modified by a power superior to man. There 
are duties of a high order which, in a worldly point 
of view, instead of producing a benefit, hurl de- 
struction upon us. There are certain duties which 
demand the sacrifice of our possessions, nay even 
of life itself; the recompense of virtue is in pro- 
portion to the efforts it costs us, and to the victory 
it makes us gain over our self-love. 

Jesus Christ, whose precepts are applicable to 
the most wise as well as the most ignorant, requires 



NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 209 

for their accomplishment neither sagacity, profound 
learning, nor great knowledge of the world, but 
only charity and love. Love God icith all thy heart, 
and icith all thy soul, and thy neighbour as thyself. 
Therein is the whole of the law. Every mortal 
is capable of love, even to the infant which hangs* 
at its mother's bosom. It is the leading star, 
which conducts most surely to virtue and justice, 
and is equally agreeable both to God and man. 
He who, in his dealings, is guided by this law, 
cannot easily do wrong or injustice towards him 
with whom he deals. 

Love God icith all thy heart and with all thy soul, 
and you will then soon recognise the extent of your 
duties towards your neighbour and mankind gene- 
rally. He who loves God will not, from his human 
infirmity and fear, commit the evil demanded of 
us by men. He who loves God, does not excuse 
crime, does not flatter vice, nor does he unite him- 
self with the persecutors of virtue. He who loves 
God, if he cannot always prevent evil, does not, 
at least, encourage it by deed or word — by vile 
hypocrisy or vain politeness. He who loves God, 
listens to the voice of God within his own con- 
science, which is the infallible and immediate 
judge of what is good and what is bad. He who 
loves God is never forced to have recourse to 
falsehood : his heart tells him, it is just to obey 



210 NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 

God rather than man. Honour the Father of truth 
by truth. If a solemn moment arrives when the 
confession of the truth involves the sacrifice of all 
you possess on earth, even your existence, never 
deny Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ also died for the 
truth he had brought with him for mortals from 
heaven; his disciples, animated by his spirit, died 
for the truth; and innumerable noble martyrs 
thought, acted, and died, like them, for the truth. 

Love thy neighbour as thyself And who is thy 
neighbour 1 Every man upon whom, and upon 
whose condition, you may exert an influence by 
your words or actions. If you love that brother 
as you ought, you love yourself in him. There- 
fore, what you wish others should do unto you, 
do you also unto them. Can you wish to be 
deceived by falsehood, even when done in a joke ? 
No ; but you will bless him, in return, who, in 
order to keep from you a greater evil, conceals 
from you a dangerous truth. 

Yes, there are truths which, if communicated 
too abruptly, and at an ill time, may cause much 
injury. Examine well, on every occasion, not if 
an immediate and open confession of the truth 
will compromise your own interest, but if it will 
endanger the repose and welfare of others. Charity 
teaches you to speak where it is necessary, and to 
be silent where it is required. 



NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 211 

Confess the truth, even to your own injury ; but 
charitably conceal it if it may interfere with the 
happiness of others. Conceal it if. without injury 
to others, you have promised and can preserve 
silence. Conceal it, if you feel that what you 
believe yourself is not altogether without some 
doubt, and if communicated might produce suspi- 
cions and inquietude in others, without carrying 
conviction to their mind. Conceal it, if you think 
the proper hour is not arrived in which the com- 
munication may prove beneficial. Everything has 
its time : and charity will teach you which is the 
salutary and proper moment. 

Honour and respect, therefore, in others what 
may appear to them the truth, and which may 
render them honest and pious, although you may 
yourself perceive in it nothing but error and pre- 
judice. If you live amongst a people who profess 
a religion different from your own, do not throw 
yourself amongst them, uncalled for, as a missionary 
of truth: refrain from shaking their faith with 
doubts. Every person is happy in his own faith 
only : and, in proportion as his mind becomes 
enlightened, he will abandon his prejudices. Look 
less at what your neighbour believes than what he 
does. If his spirit is in accordance with that of 
Jesus Christ, he is a disciple of Jesus Christ. God 
will one day take into account the errors of the 
- p2 



212 NECESSARY FALSEHOODS. 

heart alone — not the errors of the mind. But 
charity will show you how, with prudence and 
regard, you may dissipate the prejudices of your 
friend. 

Thou eternal source of happiness, it is thy 
love which has given, O heavenly Father, an 
existence to the universe and to myself; Thou 
didst create me after thine own image. Thence 
is it that a soul impregnated with love and charity, 
and disposed to spread happiness around it, is what 
is most divine in man. Ah ! if this celestial flame 
continued always to burn bright within my breast, 
it would soon consume the vile and earthly 
interest, and I should then seek happiness only in 
the universal felicity of my brethren. O sovereign 
Love and Charity, excite and keep alive within 
me this flame, so that it may become my whole 
existence and life ! For, if I am penetrated with 
the spirit of Jesus, then only shall I breathe and 
exist in him ; his will, will become my will, and 
his wisdom my wisdom— then only shall I know 
to esteem truth in word and action more than all 
earthly possessions, and even more than life itself ; 
and only then shall I be enabled to comprehend 
the profound meaning of those sublime words: "To 
love Jesus Christ, and live in him, is better than 
all the science and knowledge of the world !" — 
Amen. 



T 






THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 



1 Peter, iv. 10. 

M As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one 

to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God." 

Why has divine Providence distributed with such 
inequality the possessions of this earth? Why are 
the greatest riches often to be found in the hands 
of those who are the least worthy of them? Whence 
is it that the most virtuous families are often in 
want of the common necessaries of life — that the 
philosopher and the man of genius frequently pine 
away their existence in obscure misery and dis- 
tress; whilst those men most remarkable for their 
ignorance, stupidity, idleness, and inutility, are 
distinguished from all the others by the magni- 
ficence and splendour of their style of living, and 
the honourable and lucrative appointments they 
hold ? Why does Heaven so often permit the good 
intentions of the friend of mankind to remain 
ineffectual because he wants the means to realise 



214 THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 

them ; whilst, on the contrary, it is so prodigal of its 
most precious gifts towards the many of his fellow- 
creatures, who seek only delight in iniquity and 
evil-doing? What a heaven might it not be upon 
this earth already, if virtue, piety, and wisdom, 
were united with the greatest possible happiness ! 

Such are the questions often asked by those 
who are forced to witness crime triumphant, and 
virtue overpowered and crushed into the dust. 
Such are the interrogations we still more frequently 
put to ourselves, when, in a fit of disappointment 
and despair, we compare our destiny, our fortune, 
and our whole position, with the situation and cir- 
cumstances of those we fancy we surpass both in 
the good qualities of the heart, and in the superior 
attainments of the mind. Without intending it, 
we thus often complain of the wisdom of Provi- 
dence, or often lament that we have not, like 
others, received a larger portion of its favours and 
benefits. 

But has Providence really been so unjust in the 
distribution of its benefactions? Which is the man 
upon this earth so eminently favoured by Heaven, 
and whose good fortune excites your envy? 

Recollect yourself; examine attentively the 
works of Providence, as far at least as the eye of 
short-sighted man is able to survey the government 
of the world. The slightest observation will suffice 



THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 215 

to convince you, that your murmurs and complaints 
are unjust and ill-placed — that your desires are not 
dictated by your better reason, but by your cupidity 
and sensuality; and a single moment of reflection 
and good faith, will be sufficient to reconcile you 
to the dispensations of Providence. 

You murmur at the unequal distribution of the 
gifts of fortune — that is, you complain that you do 
not possess equal ease and comfort with others, 
whom you consider to be favoured with a better 
provision than yourself. But what causes you to 
murmur is not your pity for those of your fellow- 
creatures who are poorer than yourself, but it is 
envy which incites you to complain at beholding 
those richer than yourself. You yourself would 
not wish to abolish the existing differences of rank 
and condition, so favourable, when properly and 
justly regulated, for the improvement and perfec- 
tion of the human race : neither would you desire 
even to live in a country where any majority, or 
perhaps the whole community, were your equals in 
talent, rank, and fortune ; where none would require 
the aid of others ; where all progress and advance- 
ment would be substituted by a monotonous uni- 
formity; and where, finally, no person would 
express or feel an interest for you in particular, 
because the most complete and entire independence 
would be the general participation of all. 



216 THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 

Thus your murmurs are only created by your 
own personal interest, In emulating a higher 
condition, you forget those who possess less fortune 
than yourself, although perhaps they are equally 
worthy, or even more worthy, of the favours of 
fortune. Is then the order and regulation of the 
world to be reversed, that your vanity and ambi- 
tion may be satisfied ? You must therefore admit 
that your pretensions are only the result of a 
haughty and unreasonable temerity, and your 
complaints the consequences of a mad selfishness ; 
and were you to express them aloud, the world 
would mock at and despise you. Do you believe 
that the power of the Almighty will become the 
servant of your folly? 

But, you again ask, Why are the gifts of 
fortune so frequently found in the possession of 
those who do not merit them ? Which is the 
man, however, we again inquire, whom you judge 
to be unworthy of them ? Is it he who knows 
not how to make a good use of them ? But are 
you a competent judge over him you call un- 
worthy ? Are you sufficiently initiated in the 
secrets and mysteries of the economy of this 
world, to be enabled to know exactly the ad- 
vantages and disadvantages resulting therefrom? 
Who will guarantee " that millions of other men 
make a more noble use -of their fortune than he 



THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 217 

you condemn ? You only point attention to him, 
because his honours, his power, and his riches 
dazzle and blind you ; but you know not the con- 
duct and management of those millions, because 
the sphere of their activity is too limited to attract 
your notice. Are you quite sure, that in a more 
elevated position of life you would retain the 
same principles and disposition which you now 
possess, and which, in your eyes, render you 
worthy of a more brilliant career ? How many 
times have you not changed both your language 
and conduct, nay even your views and principles, 
in your present narrow sphere of action, according 
to the circumstances by which you were influenced ? 
How often have you not resembled the disciple of 
Jesus, who swore, in the warmth and inspiration 
of his enthusiasm, to die rather than to deny his 
Divine Master, but who, in the hour of peril, 
denied him three times before the cock crowed ? 
Judge not, and you shall not be judged ! Do not 
condemn a man who, in other circumstances, with 
a different education, with other passions and 
other ideas, acts differently from yourself. If, 
instead of the mother that gave you birth, you 
had been born of a princess ; if, instead of your 
present plain covering, you had purple robes — for 
your humble chair, you had a throne ; and instead 
of sincere friends, you had courtiers and flatterers. 



218 THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE, 

whose hypocrisy and heartlessness would flatter 
your pride, what would you be this day ? 

You ask, why does Providence leave the good 
intentions of the friend of mankind so often with- 
out the means to realise them, whilst it permits 
vice to possess a thousand resources ? Are you 
certain that the family which to-day finds in its 
mediocrity a safeguard for its virtue and honour, 
would still remain virtuous and happy in the lap 
of wealth, and surrounded by all the seductions of 
a pleasurable life ? Blind mortal, you deplore 
often the state which procures you real happiness, 
and wish to exchange it for one which accom- 
panies brilliant misery! If on this earth vice 
really possesses great external means, the result 
therefrom is that by opposition and resistance 
virtue develops with greater energy the resources 
it is thus forced to seek in itself. What a mass of 
talent would have remained dormant and unknown 
if necessity had not awakened and brought it to 
light! What innumerable inventions and dis- 
coveries would still have to be made, had it not 
been for the spur of poverty and want ! 

Look around you, and behold what is the pro- 
portion of the various gifts of fortune, and say, 
have they been distributed in reality with the 
inequality you murmur at ? 

There is no disadvantage in the world which is 



THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 219 

not compensated for by some advantage, nor any 
imperfection from which some good does not result. 
No country resembles the other in gifts of nature, 
but each has its peculiar charms and appropriate 
possessions. And as custom habituates us even 
to imperfections, it is, therefore, usual for every 
native to consider his own country superior to any 
other ; and as it is with the various countries of 
the earth, so it is with individual man. 

Here we may behold a family living in opu- 
lence, but it is unhappy through the character or 
the fate of some of its members, and it envies the 
union and tranquillity which reign in the bosom of 
its neighbouring family, although in indigence 
and poverty. Yonder we see an individual who 
is to be pitied, because his limited understanding 
forces him to depend upon the advice of others ; 
but his fortune places him above want. We meet 
with another who lives in abundance ; but his bad 
state of health prevents him from enjoying any 
benefit from his fortune. Here we behold another, 
without property ; he possesses but limited means, 
yet his love of occupation and his industrious 
habits are the foundation of his peace of mind ; and 
he feels he has enough, whilst his labour protects 
and strengthens his health. There we encounter a 
man who has neither honours, appointments, nor 
income ; but his talents and his acquirements 



220 THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 

place him above the vulgar crowd ; and he would 
not exchange his lot for all the gold of the most 
fortunate of his age. 

Thus, Providence has not distributed its gifts of 
fortune with quite so much inequality as may 
appear at the first view. No person upon earth 
is the richest ; no person is the poorest ; each sees 
in others something to envy; and each enjoys 
prerogatives which others do not possess. You 
have all received from God a particular mark 
of his favour. " As every man hath received the 
gift, even so minister the same one to another, as 
good stewards of the manifold grace of God." 

Cease, therefore, to complain of the unequal divi- 
sion of the gifts of fortune. Regard not those who 
have in appearance a greater proportion of riches, 
rather than those who appear less favoured. 
Remember, that he whose condition you envy, 
perceives advantages in you, which, in return, 
excite his desires. He has more riches, but you 
have more strength ; you wish to possess his 
talents, and he envies your tranquillity of mind ; 
his honours and his glory would produce your 
happiness, whilst he would willingly exchange 
them for the happy obscurity which places you 
beyond his cares and persecutions. No person is 
deprived of all advantages ; but all lack some. 

The longer and the more attentively we regard 



THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 221 

the distribution of the gifts of fortune amongst 
men, the more we shall become convinced that 
this dispensation is the work of the wisdom and 
goodness of God ; and it will render us from day 
to day more satisfied with the portion allotted to 
ourselves. No mortal upon earth has cause to 
curse his own fate, unless he has made it wretched 
and insupportable by his own folly. For who, 
after all, and in reality, is the poorest man here 
below ? It is the discontented man ! Who is 
the richest and most independent man ? It is he 
that has the fewest wants ! 

In order to diminish the number of your wants, 
and in order to live satisfied with the gifts you 
have received from the hand of God, never forget 
this important truth : The happiness of man is inde- 
pendent of the possessions of this earth ; the happiest 
of mortals is not he who possesses the greatest 
riches, but he who possesses the greatest virtue. 

If human happiness depended upon opulence, 
rank, and power, the poor mechanic would always 
remain the most unhappy, and the monarch the 
most happy of men. But how often do we, alas, 
experience the contrary ! How many eminent 
and glorious men have fallen victims to their 
cares and sorrows, whilst the obscure and low- 
born artisan has enjoyed in peace and tranquillity 
the fruits of his hard-earned labour. 



222 THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 

You seek for happiness, and, blinded by your 
passions, you imagine you will find it in the 
enjoyment of brilliant and extensive possessions. 
These possessions, however, are the means, and 
not the foundation, of happiness ; besides, they 
will not contribute to your happiness, for thou- 
sands already who have that which you now sigh 
for, are not less unhappy than yourself. Seek not 
around you for what you can only find in the 
purity of your own heart, and in the wisdom 
which exalts you above all which is, and ever 
must remain, but dust and ashes. 

In order to live contented with the lot which 
Providence has assigned to you, learn to know the 
privileges of your position : know how to appreciate 
your domestic and social relations, and tread not 
under foot the elements of happiness you possess, 
in order to run after an imaginary good. The 
dissatisfaction which calls forth your murmurs 
against Providence, is the consequence of world- 
liness which overwhelms your reason and your 
religious feelings ; it is the symptom of a diseased 
soul and of a disorganised mind. Cure yourself 
of this imbecility, and you will bless your lot when 
you compare it with that of so many millions 
of men who might envy your condition. Your 
situation, it is true, is not exempt from inconve- 
niences ; but examine whether you have certainly 



THE GIFTS OF FORTUXE. 223 

done all that depends upon yourself to escape 
from them, and whether, perhaps, you are not 
yourself the author and originator of them. If 
your sufferings are, in reality, the consequence of 
your faults and vices, why demand of God such 
astonishing things in favour of your inertness or 
infirmity ? Become better, and your situation will 
also improve. 

That you may live satisfied with the gifts which 
the bounty of Heaven has granted you, ennoble all 
that you have in your possession, and you will be then 
rich ! Ennoble your heart by the virtues which 
you still need, and your mind by knowledge and 
meditation. Enlarge your possessions by activity, 
economy, and, above all, by the use you make of 
them ; and substitute simplicity and purity for 
gaudy splendour and magnificence, and utility for 
a dazzling outward show. Ennoble the members 
of your family and of your household, by giving 
them an example of love, respect, and kindliness ; 
banish, gradually, from your conversation all 
littleness, and from your conduct all uncharitable- 
ness. Ennoble the relations which unite you 
with your equals and superiors ; avoid bad com- 
pany; conciliate the affection and benevolence 
of your contemporaries by accommodation and 
readiness to assist in all your dealings together ; 
be the first to offer aid, and the last to require 



224 THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 

it; and, finally, be rich in virtue, and you will 
acquire true riches, peace of soul, peace with 
God, contentment of the mind, favour with men, 
and a combination of all the blessings of Pro- 
vidence. 

The gifts of fortune are, however, always the gifts 
of God ; for God assigns to you means ample 
enough to enable you to make your own happiness, 
and to contribute to that of those around you. 
Cease, then, thou worm of the dust, to murmur 
and bewail at the infinite wisdom of God for not 
having regulated the government of the world 
according to your views ! Can you venture to call 
in question the immensity of His love ? Rather, 
confide entirely in that Providence which prepared 
for you even long before you existed. 

Distribute with wisdom the rich portion which 
God has dispensed to you ; neither be less faithful 
in the administration of the little He may have 
granted you. The day will arrive when you must 
give up your account ; and the day of recompense 
will also come. The moment that shall accomplish 
your destiny will appear suddenly, and you will 
hear the voice of your divine Master say: "Well 
done, good and faithful servant ; thou hast been 
faithful over a few things, I will make thee ruler 
over many things : enter thou into the joy of thy 
Lord." (Mat. xxv. 23;) 



THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 225 

Administer justly the gifts of fortune, in pre- 
serving and defending them from all abuse and 
injury. Beware you do not ruin your health in the 
dissipations of a voluptuous and effeminate life ; 
dissipate not your fortune in idle and extravagant 
lavishment ; nor destroy your intellectual powers 
by occupations unworthy of an immortal spirit. 
Do not sacrifice your situation, your credit, or 
your influence, to the gratification of your vanity. 
Regard, rather, each of the gifts you have received 
as a talent confided to your charge, with which 
you are to act in the most profitable way for the 
happiness of your family, and the benefit of society 
and of the world generally. 

Source of all grace, and Author of all perfect 
gifts, God of goodness, infinite Being, and wise 
Dispenser of our destiny, and Father of all worlds 
and nations, O my Father ! Thou hast not forgotten 
one of thy creatures ; each has received the means 
to create his own happiness and that of others. 
The gifts Thou hast distributed amongst thy 
children are numerous and varied ; but this very 
variety itself is a bond which unites nation to 
nation and man to man. The necessity of satisfying 
reciprocally their wants, approximates mankind by 
an interchange of good and friendly services. 
What one may lack is possessed by another, and 
the resources of one man supply the deficiencies of 



226 THE GIFTS OF FORTUNE. 

another. None possess everything ; none are per- 
fect; and none are independent of others. By 
this mutual need of services and assistance is 
produced the welfare of all. 

Content, O Lord, with all that Thou hast granted 
to my family and myself, I will avoid all misuse of 
thy bounty, and I will not neglect the wants and 
happiness of others. Of what service is to us the 
possession of an abundance of worldly wealth, if 
we use it not with wisdom and prudence ! And 
even with little we may be rich ; but with Thee, 
heavenly Father, in our heart, we possess a 
treasure which can never perish. — Amen. 



MARRIAGE. 



St. Matthew, xix. 4 — 6. 

"And he answered and said unto them, Have ye not read, that He 
which made them at the beginning made them male and female, 
And said, For this cause shall a man leave father and mother, and 
shall cleave to his wife : and they twain shall be one flesh ? 
Wherefore they are no more twain, but one flesh. What there- 
fore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder." 

Of all the ties which unite individuals upon this 
earthy there exists not one more sacred, nor more 
important in its nature and results, than marriage. 
It is the most sacred, because it is ordained by 
the Creator himself. The most ancient record of 
the history of the human race describes to us the 
creation of man and woman, and their union 
together by the hand of Jehovah. " And the Lord 
God said, It is not good that the man should be 
alone ; I will make him an help for him" (Genesis, 
ii. 18). God has implanted in the heart of mankind 
an intense desire for this union. Each sex respects 
in the other the excellencies not found in its own ; 
the magical delicacy and tenderness of the woman 

q2 



228 MARRIAGE. 

meliorate and modify the impetuosity of pride 
which man derives from the consciousness of his 
strength and power ; and the courage and energy 
of the man protect and shield the weakness of his 
companion. Mutually attracted by the impulses of 
nature, the youth and the virgin approach each 
other, and in the innocence of their unsophisticated 
hearts, the reciprocal affection they experience 
becomes in a measure a foretaste of a divine and 
holy love. Every nation upon the earth celebrates 
with reverence the institution of marriage; and in 
the eyes of all marriage is held sacred and its 
rights inviolable. 

This union, one of vast importance in itself, is 
the most intimate which can be formed by man. 
The married only can convert their happiness into 
mutual felicity : nature unites them by an indis- 
soluble bond of friendship. The destiny which 
hangs over one, inevitably includes the other in 
its influence ; and they share alike in all things, 
happiness and misfortune, joy and sorrow, glory 
and dishonour, riches and poverty. They be- 
long to each other, and remain together when 
they are abandoned by every one else. They 
pursue together their career in life; and the 
ties which bind them in this world to each other 
can only be cut asunder by death. The delicate 
and tender chain which unites brother to sister. 



MARRIAGE. 229 

and the parent to the child, is much less power- 
ful and lasting than the holy union of the hus- 
band and the wife. The young man leaves his 
paternal roof, and is thrown amidst the tumult 
and bustle of the world. He becomes adult, and 
the parental injunctions have ceased, and his only 
comfort and support then is the wife his heart 
has chosen ; she alone belongs to him ; it is for 
her he cares, toils, and lives. The woman also 
has left her father and her mother, that she 
may follow her husband; in him she finds her 
parents more than replaced ; to him she clings ; 
from his hand she receives her dole of happiness 
or misery; and to him also is she the reward or the 
punishment. 

The conjugal union is perhaps more important 
than any other in its consequences. It is, for the 
majority of mankind, a source of the greatest 
felicity, or of the greatest suffering. Man, fully 
matured, separated from the friends of his youth, 
and quitting the happy circle of his family, raises 
with his own hands the edifice of his domestic hap- 
piness. Even if the storm of adversity rage 
around him, he can always find true comfort 
in the conjugal peace of his home : whereas, 
domestic discord renders him miserable and 
wretched, even in the midst of honours and dis- 
tinctions, in the very height of glory and riches. 



230 MARRIAGE. 

With marriage man enters upon a new existence ; 
he is no longer alone in the world ; tender but 
permanent bonds attach him to life; his heart be- 
comes acquainted with paternal joys — the most 
pure and cherished, as well as paternal pains — 
the most severe and acute ; and to him the present 
moment has now become more precious, the past 
more instructive, and the future more attractive. 

The greater the respect we owe to a law which 
renders fruitful and civilises the human species, 
the greater is the interest we ought to attach to an 
institution which is the source of civil and domestic 
happiness or misery, and the more criminal is he 
who makes the sanctity of marriage the object 
of his ridicule : for in railing against a divine insti- 
tution, he mocks at the Creator, and treats with 
derision the noblest law of nature, and that best 
adapted to the well-being of humanity. 

The importance of marriage, the necessity of 
this ordinance, established for the propagation of 
the human species, for the stability of states, and 
for the happiness of individuals, is however in- 
jured and destroyed by luxury and the love of 
display, which diminish the number of marriages, 
sever from each other souls united by nature, and 
encourage that disorder which is contrary to mo- 
rality and religion. But simplicity of manners 
promotes happiness in wedded life, and strengthens 



MARRIAGE. 231 

the union of those whom similarity of mind and 
tastes had united in the desire to form for each 
other a terrestrial paradise. 

Extravagant expenditure, which it is but too 
often customary to believe a necessity, especially 
in large towns ; the comforts and pleasures which 
man will not deny to himself; and the enjoy- 
ments and delights produced by fashion and 
dress, into which in early life the female is 
initiated, and to which she becomes habituated, 
are serious and powerful impediments to mar- 
riage. In spite of his natural desire and most 
honest intentions, a man ought not to venture 
to marry if his limited means will not suffice to 
provide for the wants of two persons, nor meet 
the double expense to the extent demanded by 
their condition in society. 

Such are the dangerous and sad effects of luxury, 
and this it is which, above all things, poisons 
domestic tranquillity, and ruins the happiness of 
young people, united by their purity as well as by 
their sympathy. It reverses the sacred order of 
nature, opposes its most tender desires, and trans- 
forms into a regret the most innocent wish that 
sensible beings can indulge in — the wish to be 
happy. It separates man from man ; it leads him 
to egotism which worships self only, which disre- 
gards and disdains all else ; it dissolves all ties of 



232 MARRIAGE. 

connection and union among the people, destroys 
all respect for the laws, attachment to the sovereign, 
and enervates the human species. 

Whether considered as a true cause of death to 
all conjugal felicity, or as one of the greatest and 
most serious obstacles to those legitimate unions 
to which nature holds out the promise of happi- 
ness, luxury appears destined to be the curse of all 
ages, and to incur the malediction of men in every 
civilised country, and certainly the hatred of all 
the worshippers of Christ. For how could a 
Christian venture to defend, how could he venture 
to tolerate, a principle which is inimical to the 
order of nature and to the institutions of the Creator? 

If luxury opposes to marriage those obstacles 
which it is difficult or impossible to overcome, the 
levity of many persons does not less contravene 
the wise decrees of Providence ; it but too fre- 
quently poisons the sources of worldly happiness, 
howsoever pure, and transforms them into a per- 
petual fountain of bitterness. Luxury destroys 
all respect for marriage ; whilst levity treats with 
scorn and contempt the importance of this sacred 
compact. Levity itself is, generally, the fruit of 
deep corruption ; it regards as the end of marriage 
that which is merely accessory, and converts that 
which is only accessory into a principal object. 

The aim of marriage i& not alone the propaga- 



MARRIAGE. 233 

tion of the human species, but the happiness of 
the married and their moral perfection, as the 
result of their mutual love. But how could they 
secure reciprocal happiness if their character and 
sentiments did not dispose them to live for each 
other, to have but one soul, to correct and sacrifice 
the errors and pretensions which might interrupt 
their mutual harmony ? When, therefore, we are 
about to conclude this important and solemn con- 
tract, we ought to consider less the qualities which 
render persons respectable, than the faults which 
might cause us to despise them, and especially 
when, having been contracted during the period 
of education, and strengthened by habit, they have 
become a second nature. 

The evils which too often attend conjugal 
unions, never proceed from the tenderness and 
generosity of the married couple, but invariably 
from their inveterate and incorrigible faults. Be- 
fore marrying, therefore, it is most important to 
study the faults which have become habitual, 
rather than the virtues possessed by the indivi- 
dual, if we would foresee the results of the union 
we are entering upon. Experience presents to us 
many happy marriages, where there is an absence 
of any eminent qualities ; the husband and wife 
pass together happy and peaceful days, because 



234 MARRIAGE. 

their daily and affectionate intercourse is not inter- 
rupted by each other's faults. Whereas, we often 
behold discord and passion existing between 
married couples, whose virtues and characters 
appeared to promise a felicity but rarely to be 
found ; because, in conjunction with their dis- 
tinguished qualities, they retain all those faults, 
infirmities, and peculiarities, which are concealed 
from public observation, only to become more 
intolerable and conspicuous within the limited 
circle of domestic life, and in the hourly commu- 
nication of husband and wife. 

Often, in the first illusions of love, persons car- 
ried away by their fondness for each other, become 
reciprocally blinded to their faults, and behold, in 
the beloved object, virtue and perfection only. 
Often, again, it is from the want of knowing each 
other sufficiently that they are prevented from 
discovering to one another such dangerous infirmi- 
ties ; and still more often it arises from a reluctance 
and unwillingness to risk their being detected and 
discovered. With what care do we not seek to 
make ourselves appear amiable when we wish to be 
beloved ! How ingenious does not love make us 
in veiling our imperfections and in disguising our 
infirmities ! 

But as long as love is less a tender affection 



MARRIAGE. 235 

than a wild and impetuous passion, so long is it 
a mere madness ; for, whilst it is the heart which 
judges, its decisions are both fatal and blind. 
Woe to those unfortunate persons who suppress 
the voice of reason, and who, deaf to its warn- 
ings, rush with the impetuosity of madness to 
the desired object, admiring its good qualities, 
and concealing from themselves its faults. Love, 
which is moderated by affection, may endure 
for an age ; but passion lives only for a moment, 
and ceases as soon as it has obtained its aim. Love 
also finds its term, and gives place to disgust and 
hatred, when it eventually perceives its error in 
the object of its choice. Our eyes were, at first, 
only enchained with the perfections of the person 
we loved ; and the sad discovery of faults is re- 
served for the moment when we have formed the 
tie which cannot be dissolved. 

Passion is divested of judgment, and is always 
inconsiderate, and consequently blameable : it 
endangers, with precipitate levity, the tranquil- 
lity of the soul and the happiness of our whole 
life. All levity is culpable at this important 
epoch, which demands the most serious reflection, 
inasmuch as it decides the temporal happiness or 
misery of two individuals. Check the fervour of 
your senses by that always efficacious remedy — 



236 MARRIAGE. 

time. Never contract an alliance without well 
knowing into whose hands you are about to confide 
your felicity. Let your eye be more penetrating, 
I repeat, in detecting the errors than in discover- 
ing the good qualities of the person with whom 
you contemplate an union; the latter are less 
the foundation of happiness than the former its 
destruction. The summit of wisdom consists in 
never uniting yourself to a person by eternal ties, 
until you have acquired the conviction, that through 
and with that person, no other, in your place, could be 
unhappy. 

But the blind passions of youth are not the most 
frequent cause of the evils of conjugal union. 
More often still, secondary considerations operate 
upon parents and friends to unite together, by the 
heavy chains of dulness and misery, two individuals 
who, in a different relationship, might have become, 
and have been regarded, as the most happy of 
human beings : all which results from the criminal 
abuse of legitimate authority ! And how often 
do baser motives force such an alliance between 
persons unknown, or, at least, strangers to each 
other ; persons who are separated from each other 
by cool indifference, or even by aversion ! 

In general, parents only take care to procure 
for their child a suitable maintenance, agreeable 



MARRIAGE. 237 

to its habits, taste, and condition in society. But 
they rarely examine if the character and disposi- 
tion of those they have resolved to unite to each 
other are of such a nature as to ensure internal 
peace and happiness, as well as the physical 
welfare which circumstances already guarantee. 

Assuredly, reason cannot possibly sanction or 
approve a marriage being concluded, when it is 
foreseen already that the husband will be incapable 
of maintaining honourably his wife and children 
by the fruits of his labour ; but, on the other 
hand, reason cannot sanction or approve of the 
peace and serenity of two persons being sacrificed 
to the avaricious calculations of interest. Alas ! 
how numerous are the examples which exist of the 
mournful results of these marriages, so well, and 
yet, at the same time, so badly calculated ! What 
vexation and care do they produce to those who, 
with fatal hand, impose such a yoke ; and what 
tears and lamentations to those who are forced to 
bear it ! 

Sometimes this sad and grievous error of parents 
seems to seek and find its excuse in their vigilant 
foresight, however imprudent it may be. But who 
can undertake to excuse those whose family pride 
causes them to reject alliances well adapted to 
found the happiness of their children, whilst they 
force them to contract those from which disgust, 



238 MARRIAGE. 

aversion, hatred, and wasting sorrow, must be the 
natural consequences? Who would venture to 
defend the father, who is sufficiently denaturalised 
to sacrifice the moral welfare and condition of his 
child to his personal interest, his external consider- 
ation and aggrandisement, and his favourite tastes ; 
who is criminal enough to plunge his son or 
daughter into interminable misery, rather than 
renounce his ambitious designs ? But God judges 
those that act so ; and the world itself stamps upon 
them the seal of scorn and contempt. Yes ; God 
judges you, all ye that by a vile selfishness trample 
underfoot His institutions, and destroy the sacred 
and admirable plans conceived for the happiness of 
His children! God judges you : God is the recom- 
pense^ who counts the tears, and hears the sighs, 
which your egotism draws from your victim, who 
was formed and intended for a better destiny ! You 
obtain the object of your cruel designs ; but you 
cannot escape from a terrible repentance. It will 
reach you, even if it be upon your death-bed, when 
your conscience will present to you, as a threatening 
vision, the scene of that misery of which you are the 
author — the deplorable inheritance which you leave 
behind for your unhappy family ! 

The line of demarcation between the use and 
abuse of parental authority is nowhere so difficult 
to be traced as in the choice of a husband or wife 



MARRIAGE. 239 

for a daughter or son. How easy it is, notwith- 
standing the most scrupulous circumspection, to 
overstep the limits of this authority. How culpable 
do those make themselves who go beyond those 
limits through levity, obstinacy, pride, and interest, 
in contempt of the divine institutions, and in con- 
tempt of the happiness of those beings confided to 
their solicitude ! 

When freed from the guardianship of their 
parents, children find themselves placed in the 
most critical position of life ; the parents have the 
right to give them advice, hut not commands. They 
are no longer the masters nor the instructors of 
those whom they acknowledge capable of com- 
manding others in their turn, and of educating 
their children. They ought never to forget that 
upon this selection of a husband or wife depends 
not only their own happiness but the happiness of 
their children. If from any motives of considera- 
tion they force a child to contract a union at 
which its heart revolts, their conduct is imprudent, 
cruel, and contrary to the spirit of the Holy 
Scriptures. 

But however this principle which establishes 
the legal enfranchisement of children may be just, 
yet, on the other hand, equally well-founded and 
legitimate is the right of parents to refuse their 
consent to a union contemplated by the blind 



240 MARRIAGE. 

passions of their children, and which will be 
necessarily attended by misery and shame. When 
Christian parents oppose their authority against 
such a mad and unhappy choice, they avail them- 
selves not merely of a right, but they perform a 
duty. In general, a choice of this natureis made 
at an age when the force of passion distorts the 
imagination of the youthful mind, which it drags 
into unknown peril, and which is not secured by 
a knowledge of mankind, or experience of the 
world. In such a case, the experienced prudence 
and ripened wisdom of the parents, and the calm 
reflection of their more advanced age, should guide 
the inexperience of youth, and moderate its fire; 
their advice, and the authority of persuasion, may 
at least prevent the temporal happiness of their 
children from being destroyed in its germ by 
inconsiderate and delirious passion. 

Thus, the peace and serenity of life depend 
entirely upon the wise choice of a husband or a 
wife. And yet, with what imprudent levity and 
frivolity do so many, nevertheless, take this step 
which decides their future fate ! What a source 
of bitter lamentation would be checked, when not 
destroyed, if we selected with greater prudence 
the companion of our earthly pilgrimage ! What 
sorrows daily renewed, and what secret regrets, 
wasting and destroying, the body as well as the 



MARRIAGE. 241 

soul, would be spared ; and from how many reso- 
lutions, suggested and produced by despair, should 
we be preserved ! 

If we cast our eyes around us, how rarely do we 
find those happy marriages to exist of which we 
might be enabled to say : Behold a heaven upon 
earth, behold mortals worthy to be envied, elevated 
above the strokes of fate by their love and by their 
constant fidelity! Separated evenfrom the world and 
all it pleasures, they would, nevertheless, be truly 
rich and happy in themselves ! On the contrary, 
how many marriages do we witness where nothing 
exists but disgust and indifference ? There the 
days pass but rarely without a cloud; there, with 
each coming day, they wish in vain for a better 
fate ; and the discord of the parents destroys the 
happiness of the children who witness it, or incites 
them to the imitation of this injurious and baneful 
example. 

But where shall we seek for the source of this 
misery so universal ? Why are so few men happy, 
when they might and ought to find their greatest 
source of happiness in domestic life ? Why do we 
find, in so many families, an internal and secret 
enemy which gnaws at their welfare, but which, 
as they cannot banish, they conceal within them- 
selves in order not to add public shame to their 
private torments ? The principal cause of this 



242 MARRIAGE. 

unhappy state of things is to be traced to the bad 
and imprudent choice made, which has rendered 
marriage the misery of an entire life, instead of 
that continual happiness which ought to be the 
fruits of a wise and intimate union. Too often, in 
the intoxication of their passion, lovers become 
eternally united before they have allowed them- 
selves time to become mutually acquainted with each 
other's faults ; but reason succeeds to this passion : 
and passion, with its rash dreams and illusions, is 
followed by sober reflection. Those who, anxious 
and jealous to please, had previously presented 
themselves only in a favourable point of view, 
behold themselves now continually together, and 
exposed to the discovery of each other's infirmi- 
ties. Thus many hopes become deceived : many 
errors become more and more visible ; and many 
bad customs and habits resume their sway. The 
qualities by which we are enabled to shine in the 
world are, very often, perfectly useless in the less 
dissipated and more regular course of domestic 
life. "We think, then, that we have been deceived 
by cunning, whilst, in fact, we have only been so 
by our own passion, and were willingly duped. 
Thence arise all the reproaches made continually 
the one against the other: and thence proceed 
those demands upon each other which are never 
satisfied. Peace, alas !. is banished, and nothing 



MARRIAGE. 243 

more is left to the married couple but obstinacy, 
contradiction, vexation, and repentance ! 

A marriage attended with discord is the most 
painful union presented in social life. All other 
connections are easy to be dissolved ; but the ties 
of marriage are not broken without difficulty. 
Converted into chains of iron, they keep us bound 
to our enemy until the compassionate hand of 
death cuts them asunder. Each day which dawns 
upon the unhappy couple re-awakens the dread of 
some fresh misery ; they avoid each other to seek 
elsewhere a moment of pleasure, and only meet 
again to discover some new cause for vexation : 
where there is no peace there can be no blessing ! 

But it is not always vices and culpable inclina- 
tions which interrupt conj ugal happiness ; it is 
often only trivial errors and oifensive peculiarities 
which, however, the eye of the stranger scarcely 
perceives. But, howsoever trifling may be these 
frivolous points in our manners and disposition, 
they may, nevertheless, banish from the limited 
circle of our married life all the happiness we 
desire. 

If the peace of home, and of the heart, are a 
necessity and a treasure, let your first efforts be 
devoted to the correction of vour faults, and the 
true source of discord and indifference, the greatest 
obstacle to all sincere conciliation. Let not the 

r2 



244 MARRIAGE. 

husband and wife demand of each other the virtues 
of which they do not themselves set the example. 
Let them not feel angry at each other's faults 
before they have corrected their own. which wound 
a heart chosen to partake mutual joys and sorrows. 
If you are not loved, you must attribute the cause 
to yourself rather than to the person whose heart 
is turned against you. because you have omitted 
to render yourself amiable in his or her eyes, or at 
least you have not endeavoured to continue to 
be so. 

The continuance of domestic happiness is based 
upon one fundamental law — that the married pair, 
veiling with silence the secrets of their home 
before the eyes of all the world, without even 
excepting their most intimate friends, behave 
towards each other with the greatest sincerity and 
the most perfect freedom in all their relations — 
whether as husband and wife, whether as father, 
as mother, or as inseparable friends. The husband 
should read the heart of the wife, and the wife 
should equally know the feelings of the husband ; 
thus they will have but one soul, one love, one 
fear, one hope, and one life in two bodies. 

Distrust has too often destroyed the most happy 
union ; frequently the domestic felicity of persons, 
estimable in other respects, has been ruined by a 
fatal secret on the part of the husband or wife, by 



MARRIAGE. 245 

the misconceptions it has occasioned, and by the 
want of sincere mutual explanations. To keep a 
secret from the person who accompanies us on our 
pilgrimage through life, is not only to interrupt 
domestic peace, but to open the door of our home 
to every evil, and to furnish a cause for the 
most poignant miseries. Every mystery of this 
nature gives free latitude to evil report and mis- 
chievous construction ; false friends slide in be- 
tween the hearts already separated by such a 
secret; and crafty villains, perhaps, may even 
undermine conjugal purity, and infidelity make 
derision of oaths. 

There is but one remedy for this malady of 
soul, which is that charity which thou, O Jesus, 
Divine Instructor of the world, hast given unto 
us. Charity alone gives esteem, confidence, bene- 
volence, and peace ; charity alone supports the 
evils of others, and seeks occasion to correct with 
tenderness, and without humbling in his own eyes 
or in the presence of strangers, him whom these 
evils dishonour. Charity and religion convert 
the union of marriage into a celestial alliance. 
Those who have partaken of the same destiny 
during life, will one day sleep with the same 
hopes in the arms of death. The same eternity 
opens before them ; and the same sentiments 
elevate their hearts towards the Father of the 



246 MARRIAGE. 

universe. There, where Thy love, Jesus, 
penetrates and refreshes the soul, there dwells a 
felicity without interruption ; there, nothing can 
change the peace and happiness of the nuptial 
state; and there, finally, the tenderness of mothers 
and the virtue of fathers pass as an inheritance of 
blessing to happy posterity. — Amen. 






THE PASSION FOR READING. 



2 Timothy, iii. 16, 17. 
" All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for 
doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteous- 
ness ; that the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished 
unto all good works." 

Growth in knowledge, like all other things, has 
its peculiar risks and dangers, inasmuch as it must 
be promoted by the perusal of many works of 
a different character. In those times, when no 
other books existed but those written and copied 
again with much labour by the hand, only a few 
distinguished men ventured to write down their 
thoughts and openly disseminate them. Although 
even then there was no want of mischievous and 
even dangerous works — for when has any art ex- 
isted which has not been abused by man ?— still, 
writings that were worthless and bore no charac- 
ter, could not hope to enjoy a long existence, 
because it was not worth the trouble to increase 
their number by transcription. 

In the present day, however, it is very different. 



248 THE PASSION FOR READING. 

By means of the press, the worst as well as the 
best productions may be thrown upon the world 
hj thousands, and tens of thousands of copies, 
with the most marvellous rapidity. Bad works 
are now more easily circulated, and more univer- 
sally read, than was the case formerly. The num- 
ber is in proportion to that of mediocre, semi- 
philosophic minds, and those of mean and ignoble 
ideas, compared with those really great minds, 
whose true mission is to instruct their fellow- 
creatures, and whose only object is their benefit. 
Hence the overwhelming number of works, all 
bearing the stamp of miserable mediocrity, all 
calculated to spread the contagion of their authors' 
errors and infirmities. Barely can we find, in the 
books of the present day, the stamp of merit and 
seal of immortality ; that is — force, truth, elevation 
of mind, a plenitude and profundity of knowledge, 
a reflection of the outer and inner world, or any 
ray of that divine light which, whether passing 
through the medium of fact or fiction, enlightens 
the path of perfection, or warms the heart. These 
are the qualities which evidence the real inspira- 
tion of a work and the nobleness of its aim. And 
therefore, even at the present day, we may distin- 
guish the best works by the same characteristics 
mentioned by St. Baul to Timothy, " All scripture 
is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable for 



THE PASSION FOR READING. 249 

doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction 
in righteousness ; that the man of God may be 
perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works." 
(2 Tim. iii. 16, 17.) 

The evil is augmented by the existence of so few 
persons whose reading is regulated by any plan 
selected with judgment, or attended with any 
advantage. They receive the bad equally with 
the good, read without examination, and lay aside 
the book without asking themselves or ascertain- 
ing what they may have gained by the trouble of 
reading, either in heart or soul, in thought or 
feeling. But to thousands of readers, the perusal 
of a book, far from being an exercise, is a mere 
pastime, amusement, or mental excitement, espe- 
cially when the most elevated aim is only to please 
the imagination. As children lay aside all useful 
occupation for the sake of listening to marvellous 
stories which enchant their imagination, so, many 
persons, neglecting serious persuits, indulge a weak 
childish passion for reading. This evil, unknown 
in the time of Jesus and his disciples, is become, 
in the present day, one of the most common in both 
large and small towns ; and investigation would 
discover to us, that it is but too frequently the 
source of the corruption of manners, and of the 
want of religion and energy. 

The passion for reading is an immoderate desire 



250 THE PASSION FOR READING. 

for the temporary amusement of an inactive mind 
with the conceptions and inventions of writers. 
We read merely for the sake of reading, and not 
to enrich our mind with knowledge ; we read 
indiscriminately both the false and the true, im- 
pelled by a curiosity that bears no resemblance to 
thirst for knowledge. We read and forget; we 
are pleased with this idle occupation, and give 
ourselves up to it, as to an agreeable reverie. 

The mere reading, without any serious desire to 
gain instruction or improvement, is in fact idleness 
of mind. For as long as the mind is satisfied with 
a succession of ideas which are foreign to it, it 
remains quite passive ; and if it makes no attempt 
to retain these ideas, the whole will only have the 
effect of a dream. Most precious time is wasted ; 
but this, however, is not the least of the injuries 
sustained from this over-reading. The listlessness 
and inactivity of the mind, and the desire of letting 
others think for us, become habitually necessary, 
and relax the powers of the soul. 

This result is evinced in various ways, accord- 
ing to the disposition of the individual. Such, for 
instance, as possess a retentive memory, accumu- 
late in their mind, by mere dint of reading, a 
multitude of facts, useful or not, without the least 
exercise of their powers of thought. The fruit 
of such reading affords no nutriment to the soul, 



THE PASSION FOR READING. 251 

but remains a useless enfeebling burden, like the 
undigested food in the stomach of a voracious 
eater. A truth that has been discovered by our- 
selves is more precious than a thousand truths 
received from others, and remains more fixedly 
imprinted upon the memory. A single shilling 
earned by our own labour, and put to use, has 
more real value than an ingot of gold in the coffers 
of a miser. 

Many are endowed by nature with a lively 
imagination, which, by continual reading, they 
excite to a monstrous degree, neglecting all the 
other faculties. The amusement of their imagi- 
nation is their only object and desire, and what 
does not produce that, is to them dry, tedious, 
and repugnant. Soon they become disgusted 
with useful and solid information, the acquisition 
of which requires the exercise of thought and 
judgment. They desire only the stimulating en- 
joyments of the imagination, and find therein alone 
their happiness and chief good. They cull from 
the field of human knowledge only such things as 
contribute to this object, which require no trouble 
to collect, and are sure to excite and gratify their 
curiosity. Upon this is grounded a pretension 
to sound and general information, but which in 
reality is hollow and superficial — a treacherous 
flame, which blazes, but gives neither light nor 



252 THE PASSION FOR READING. 

warmth. Hence that vain conceit which decides 
and judges without acquaintance with the subject 
— an infallible sign of weakness of mind and self- 
satisfied ignorance. Hence disgust for all useful 
works and grave occupations, which claim the 
application of powers widely different from mere 
witticisms and the reveries of a poetical imagina- 
tion. But such powers are wanting in those of 
whom we speak ; for amidst idle reading the 
faculties of the mind remain unexercised, and 
become stupified and deadened. Persons of this 
description too soon betray in all their actions 
their incapability and inaptitude for the more 
serious avocations and professions of life, and 
they then lament and complain that they are not 
enough known ! whilst the very cause of their 
being held in such low estimation is, that they 
are too well known. 

How many people, ruined by this passion for 
reading, find themselves eventually unfitted for their 
station of life, and quite incapable of fulfilling its 
duties! Here, we find men without energy to 
ameliorate their condition, longing to escape from 
the sphere which they pretend is too limited for 
their powers of action ; and yonder, we meet with 
females, who find in the joys, pains, and cares of 
the marriage state and domestic life, nothing 
which realises their exaggerated ideas and thoughts 



THE PASSION FOR READING. 253 

— no food for their imagination and sensibility ; 
they have learnt everything except what a woman 
ought to know in order to properly appreciate her 
situation, to attend to her household duties, devote 
all possible care to the comforts of her husband and 
the education of her family, and render home happy. 
Amongst the writers of the present day, who 
seek to captivate the imagination and produce 
pleasant emotions, there are very few that possess 
sufficient experience of the world, and are suffi- 
ciently acquainted with the connection between 
the circumstances of life and the human heart. As 
the greatest part of them have only formed their 
minds by various readings, without making any 
selection, and have only nourished their imagination 
with visions, so also their writings present only the 
melancholy results of a heated fancy and an impo- 
verished understanding. They neither paint the 
world as it is, nor as it ought to be, for they know 
it not; but they compose a tissue of fiction contrary 
to nature, common sense, and useful morality. 
They seek to attract and please by the novelty of 
their ideas and representations, and bring into 
action fantastic spirits and beings ; but they know- 
not how to call forth the powers of the human soul. 
Thus they do no more than reproduce, under 
another form, what they had borrowed from a 
variety of books. 



254 THE PASSION FOR READING. 

The most pernicious influence of such a passion 
for reading is seen in its effects upon young persons, 
partly because their inexperienced hearts are more 
susceptible of impressions of every sort, and partly 
because the imagination is with them the most 
active faculty. If some unfortunate circumstance, 
whether through negligence in the education, or 
inattention of the parents, causes a book of a cor- 
rupting nature, dictated by a vicious taste, to fall 
into their hands ; and if, accordingly, their imagi- 
nation becomes familiarised with improper subjects, 
with scenes in seducing colours, and in which vice 
is in a manner idealised, who can save their hearts 
when exposed to such subtle poison ? Behold the 
secret principle — but too rarely held up to con- 
demnation — of the precocious maturity of youth, of 
its knowledge of the vices of licentiousness and 
debauchery, and of the corruption of the juvenile 
heart, under the semblance of morality ! Behold 
the causes of the decay of the intellectual and 
physical powers of so many young people, the 
victims of their secret vices ! All that the perse- 
vering love of the mother , the vigilant care of the 
father, and the zeal of the tutor, have endeavoured 
to form and maintain during years of anxiety, may 
be destroyed in a few hours by a single immoral 
book! 

But how can I possibly enumerate all the evils, 



THE PASSION F-JR READING. 255 

vices, and infirmities, which have their source, or 
find their nourishment, in the passion for reading ! 
And if some are preserved from its effects by 
favourable circumstances which may opportunely 
intervene, and others wean themselves from it ; 
and if others again suffer not from its injurious 
consequences, can it be denied that thousands of 
victims owe to this passion the ruin both of their 
spiritual and worldly hopes ? 

How then, will be asked, is this evil to be 
remedied? The authorities of government can 
do much, no doubt, when they apply themselves 
seriously to the prevention of the sale and circu- 
lation of works evidently immoral ; but a great 
number of corruptible writings, nevertheless, 
escape their vigilance. Parents and instructors 
may also effect much, when they keep a not less 
watchful eye upon the studies than upon the play- 
mates of the juvenile classes. 

Bad society corrupts good manners; but the 
most dangerous society is that of a book containing 
ideas not at all adapted to the mind of the reader, 
or which, by the charm of its style, renders the 
errors of the writer more completely seductive, and 
undermines the principles of rectitude, morality, 
modesty, and religious faith. Parents and in- 
structors may certainly do much more still, in 
forming the heart and mind of youth, in shielding 



256 THE PASSION FOR READING. 

their virtue with religion, in producing within them 
a natural aversion for all that is ignoble and vulgar, 
or in placing in their hands the best and most 
appropriate works adapted to their age and their 
situation : so that, finally, the mere idea of sin and 
vice will inspire them with disgust. But. despite of 
all these means, they are but weak auxiliaries, if he 
whom we are anxious to preserve from the dangers 
of reading as described, does not himself cherish 
the sacred and firm wish of avoiding them. Can 
we save him. who, without exercising proper cou- 
rage and resolution, allows himself to be dragged 
to his own destruction? 

If you are convinced that the passion for indis- 
criminate reading has its dangers, or, at least, its 
injurious effects upon the heart and mind, then, 
as a Christian, summon up ail your strength 
and form an inviolable resolution to abstain frorft 
this over-reading. Our ancestors were a race much 
more vigorous and powerful, because they read less 
and performed more ; they preferred thinking for 
themselves to following the ideas of those whose 
examples were both false and erroneous. 

Read little, or, at any rate, read not without 
making your selection. Too great a variety, instead 
of recruiting the mind, only confuses it. The 
impression of the preceding subject is often de- 
stroyed bv the next in succession. Select that 



THE PASSION FOR READING. 257 

which is the most useful and best adapted for 
your station and social career in life ; concentrate 
all your powers for this purpose, instead of divert- 
ing your thoughts with divers other unsuitable 
readings. Consult with some friend upon the 
selection to be made, and who is acquainted with 
the best works upon the subject to which you 
ought to devote your thoughts. 

Read little, but with attention, reflection, and 
meditation, so that the subject may be indelibly 
impressed upon your memory. Lay down the 
book often whilst perusing it, and consider well 
its contents. Weigh well the principles it conveys, 
and do not rest until you have acquired an exact 
knowledge and conviction of the truth, utility, 
and excellence of the points it treats upon : the 
basis of this knowledge and conviction you must 
seek within yourself. 

Seldom read for the mere pleasure of reading. 
This pleasure is never more pure and lively than 
when reading enlightens the mind, expands and 
stores the soul with generous and charitable 
thoughts. Therefore, we ought not to peruse 
the poetical creations of the imagination solely 
for the enjoyment it produces as an art, but to 
acquire noble and elevated sentiments, to study 
the human heart, its grandeur and its infirmities. 
Works of this nature, more than any others, 



258 THE PASSION FOR READING, 

require very serious attention, in order that we 
may not be led into a labyrinth of error in follow- 
ing the high and flowery path of romantic poetry. 
Works, again, of an indifferent and mediocre 
character, eventually spoil and destroy the taste ; 
whilst those productions which embellish by the 
charm of talent the most ignoble subjects, tend to 
inflame the passions, to palliate and justify vice, 
or at least to decorate it with the flowers under 
which too often lies concealed the poisonous reptile. 
Abstain, therefore, from the perusal of writings 
composed for the pleasure of the imagination, 
unless recommended by a faithful, experienced, 
and virtuous friend. 

To love Christ and his wisdom is far better than 
all human knowledge. Of what use or benefit is 
it to me to know the world and all things created 
in it, if I neglect the knowledge of my duties and 
of heavenly things ? Whenever I read either 
sacred or profane works, it shall ever be with the 
object of perfecting my spirit and approaching 
nearer to Thee, Soul of Souls, Eternal Wisdom ! 
Direct my judgment, God ! sanctify my desires, 
that I may avoid the dangers which present them- 
selves in the difficult path of life, even to those 
who most earnestly seek Thy guidance and 
protection. — Amen. 



1*— 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 



John, iii. 19—21. 
11 And this is the condemnation, that light is come into the world, and 
men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were 
evil. For every one that doeth evil hateth the light, neithei 
cometh to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved. But he 
that doeth truth cometh to the light, that his deeds may be made 
manifest that they are wrought in God." 

Jesus Christ, the Son of God, speaking to one of 
the leaders of the Jews, who had come to him in 
the night in order to learn the truth from his lips, 
pronounced, with a deep sense and meaning, 
the words contained in the above text. These 
words convey a beautiful and touching maxim; 
and it is most frequently the only one which con- 
soles the noble and generous, who are witnesses of 
the corruption of manners and decline of faith. 

This beautiful and almost only consolation 

consists in the thought that, after the perpetration 

of so many deeds of darkness, a day will arrive 

the light of which shall unveil all the mysteries of 

- s2 



260 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

iniquity, and expose them in all their turpitude 
and deformity : that, in the end, truth shall 
triumph over falsehood ; that it shall unmask the 
proud hypocrite, cover with ignominy the usurer 
pretending to devotion, silence the sarcasms and 
sneers of the enemy to religion, and humble the 
pride of the vain and ambitious Pharisee. The 
audacity of the unpunished adulterer shall be 
shaken, the heart of the libertine subdued, the 
tears of outraged innocence and virtue avenged; the 
cheat, become rich with ill-gotten wealth, shall be 
exposed to public shame ; the liar and calumniator 
shall be struck dumb ; and, finally, the perfidious 
betrayer of his fellow-mortals shall be abandoned 
to the malediction of the whole world. 

It is a beautiful and almost the only consolation 
of good and maganimous souls, to know that truth 
must eventually prevail; that it will exalt that 
virtue which has been but too long despised, and 
elevate that justice which has hitherto been trodden 
under foot. And have they not need of such con- 
solation, when they contemplate the melancholy 
scene presented to their view ? In what character 
does not the whole world present itself before 
their eyes, when they behold that there is nothing 
sacred, either in heaven or upon earth, which is not 
desecrated by senseless vanity, and profaned by ego- 
tism, that contemner of humanity and worshipper 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 261 

of self; when they see millions of Christians mak- 
ing a mockery and derision of their brethren in 
Jesus Christ, and expressing shame and disgust at 
religion, as if it were only a childish dream and 
delusion ? Do they not require such a consoling 
prospect when they perceive an innumerable mul- 
titude of individuals, neglected by their various 
rulers and the instructors of youth, stagnating in 
revolting superstition and in complete and profound 
ignorance, without any consciousness of their own 
dignity, without the least idea of the Almighty, or 
any enlightened knowledge of their immortal des- 
tiny ? Do they not require such consolation when 
they behold the servants of the altar, the successors 
of the apostles, the ministers of Jesus Christ, who, 
alas ! do sometimes not believe what they themselves 
teach, but regard their sacred calling as a conve- 
nient means of living, and confirm the people in the 
errors at which they mock, by themselves passing 
their days in luxury, pleasure, and comfort? When, 
under the designation of successors to Jesus Christ, 
they behold them preach the doctrine of continence 
while living in debauchery, recommend charity 
while cherishing and practising hatred and revenge, 
and condemn pride whilst, as has formerly been the 
case, they themselves, inflamed with the desire of 
ruling, persecute and cast into chains whoever 
possesses the courage to publish their corruption ? 



262 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

It is a beautiful and frequently the only conso- 
lation of the good and magnanimous, to know that, 
at length, a day will come when truth, as the 
almighty avenger of its enemies, will stand forward, 
and condemn to the scorn of the world and pos- 
terity, the tyrannical oppressors of nations, and 
their instruments and ministers, often more culpable 
than themselves ; and the servile flatterers of power, 
who will fawn and cringe to-day before him they 
lately treated with contempt, and tread under feet 
their benefactor who, in the summit of power 
yesterday, is abandoned by fortune to-day, and 
thrown to the dust. It is consoling to know, also, 
that it will equally punish the bloodsuckers of the 
people, who, that themselves may live in abun- 
dance and luxury, consume the whole substance 
of the land ; the judges who, by their venality, are 
rather sellers than ministers of justice ; and faith- 
less magistrates, ever ready to ill-treat those whom 
they cannot plunder. A day of judgment is 
reserved for all these despicable mortals, these 
Christians without religion, these worshippers of 
their own interest— the only God they know ! 
" And this is the condemnation, that light is come 
into the world." 

It is at length arrived. In vain the vicious 
flatter themselves that their unworthiness will 
remain concealed : the veil is removed ; and what 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 263 

they really are is compared with what they were 
believed, to be. You hope in vain to conceal 
what you have done, and what you ought to have 
done ; the secret of your artifices is known ; and 
they can no longer be shut out from the light. In 
vain do you calculate that the consideration you 
still command, and the influence and power still 
at your disposal, will close the mouth of those 
bold accusers who have obtained, and have come 
forward to expose the proofs of your falsehood and 
deception. They remain, perhaps, dumb to-day ; 
but to-morrow, being once out of your power, 
they will speak, and proclaim your acts. You may 
try, but in vain, to bribe and corrupt by friendly 
acts, by presents and rewards, the accomplices of 
your secret crimes ; they may receive your gifts, and 
swear fidelity of secrecy ; but, resembling yourself, 
they will betray you to-morrow, if they find it to 
their own advantage to do so. 

"And men loved darkness," saith Jesus, "rather 
than light, because their deeds were evil." At the 
period of the coming of Jesus the majority of man- 
kind were abandoned to the grossest sensuality. 
True liberty had disappeared from the earth ; and, 
in its stead, nothing else was seen to exist but the 
most licentious tyrants, and their slaves, who were 
ever ready to throw incense upon the vices of 
their masters. But, alas ! born amidst the gloom 



264 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

of servitude and tyranny, men could not form an 
idea of a better existence ; they imagined and 
believed that human life had always presented the 
same aspect. The heads of states alone appeared 
to have rights, and the subjects only duties. 
Nations, continually at war with each other, were 
forced to shed their blood for the ambition of their 
rulers, and even to congratulate themselves upon 
their sanguinary destiny. The most brutal pas- 
sions, transformed into divinities, had their altars ; 
but few men raised their hands towards the living 
God, the Creator of the universe. The learned 
doctors in the law disputed together, with great 
subtilty and acuteness, upon the most trifling sub- 
jects, and gave the most strange interpretations 
to the scriptures; but they regarded as quite 
superfluous the worship of God in spirit and 
truth, as well as the observance of his laws, adapted 
for the happiness of mankind. The Pharisees 
made open profession of their devotion in temple, 
and at home ; they blinded the people by a display 
of virtue, intended to veil over from vulgar eye 
their secret vices. Constant attendance at the 
temple, sacrifices, fasts, and other religious rites, 
were the usual subject of their discourses; but 
none ever thought or dreamed of purifying their 
souls from their stains. The multitude were, 
plunged in ignorance and superstition; hatred, 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 265 

persecution, chains, and poison, were the reward 
of all efforts made to enlighten them ; and whoever 
rendered himself so culpable was denounced as an 
enemy of God and religion, a corrupter of the 
people, and seditious ; " for men loved darkness 
rather than light, because their deeds were evil." 

It was then that Christ appeared ; he revealed 
God and the truth; and he caused the light to 
penetrate the gloom that prevailed. Thanks to 
his sublime instructions, the knowledge of the 
rights and duties of man, and of his hopes and 
destiny, were no longer the privilege of a few 
learned scholars ; but they soon spread amidst all 
classes of people, and amongst all nations. The 
most poor and needy received this doctrine, and 
the most ignorant soon conceived and compre- 
hended it. 

Royal and high-born sinners began to shake 
upon their thrones, and they saw the approach of 
their destruction. Tyrants became terrified, for 
they were afraid that with truth, liberty would also 
return into the world. Hypocritical priests turned 
pale with rage, for now the light of day was to 
expose their unworthiness ; and they were about 
to learn that it is not the sacerdotal robes, but the 
sanctity of the soul and wisdom, which make the 
true priest. The wicked of all grades, and of 
every sort, became exasperated and furious, when 



266 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

they saw that arbitrary will and violence were no 
longer to be substituted for justice, and that par- 
don for sin was not to be obtained from Heaven at 
the price of sacrifices and fasts, of pilgrimages, and 
constant attendance in the temple, nor of long 
prayers, or rich gifts and endowments. Thence 
arose their persecution of Jesus, whose doctrine 
had become the light of the world; and thence their 
resolution to crucify him on the cross : "For every 
one that doeth evilhateth the light, neither cometh 
to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved." 

But in vain ; such is the power of truth, that it 
can hurl from his throne the most powerful and 
tyrannical ruler ; it can disband the most mighty 
armies, burst the chains borne for centuries, and 
render children capable of confounding the doc- 
trines of philosophers. The walls of the temple 
of Jerusalem were converted into ruins ; the altars 
of false gods reduced to dust ; the sceptre of Rome, 
the mistress of the world, was demolished ; old 
empires fell to pieces, and upon their ashes new 
empires sprang into existence. Amidst all these 
revolutions and dreadful changes, the doctrine of 
Jesus remained triumphant. The heavens and the 
earth may pass away, saith he, but the word of God, 
truth, and the salvation of the world, shall continue 
eternally. 

Meanwhile, the children of darkness, slaves to 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 267 

their passions, continued to fight against the spread 
of divine light. They took for their auxiliaries 
the rudeness and ignorance of barbarous people, 
who came, a few centuries after Jesus Christ, from 
distant and unknown lands, to conquer and hold 
possession of the most beautiful countries of the 
earth. The friends of darkness rejoiced at their 
union : all that antiquity had bequeathed of the 
grand, the beautiful, and the sublime, was de- 
stroyed ; and Christianity itself became changed 
into a paganism of another nature. Men, led 
away by sacrilegious pride, substituted themselves 
for God. New sacrifices, new altars, and new fasts, 
reappeared under new Pharisees. Disputes arose 
upon the subject of the nature and person of 
Christ ; they overlooked and forgot his doctrine, 
which was intended to brinsf back men to their 
divine model : and the external ceremonies of 
worship were substituted for the sanctification of 
the heart. The church became divided ; schisms 
arose, and grew fierce upon new doctrines of which 
Jesus had never spoken, and of subtilties, opposed 
to the salvation and happiness of the Christian. 
But still all was in vain. The power and force of 
truth triumphed, and each succeeding age produced 
some fresh victory. Human follies gradually dis- 
appeared one after the other, and became buried 
in oblivion; but the word of God, truth — the 



268 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

principle of life — lias remained, and will continue 
to remain eternally. 

At the present day even, the light of the sacred 
word of God struggles with the darkness of bar- 
barism, and truth, with ignorance, error, and 
passion ; for, in the present time, K every one 
that doeth evil hateth the light, neither conieth to 
the light, lest his deeds should be reproved." 

If Jesus reappeared on earth in his divine glory 
—the type of virtue without a stain, the example 
of humility, and the image of self-denial in all 
that excites the desires and inflames the passions 
of man, would many Christians be found attentive 
to his coming ? Should we see many followers of 
Christ renounce their pride, their luxurious habits, 
and their cupidity, in order to lead a charitable 
and holy life, according to the example of their 
Master ? Should we find libertines and usurers 
make an end of their vicious proceedings, in order 
to imitate that divine Master ? And, should we, 
finally, behold many of those who are in the 
enjoyment of opulence and riches, make a better 
use of their possessions, in order to merit the name 
of disciples ? If, when appearing among us in all 
the majesty and purity of innocence, Jesus elevated 
his indignant and condemning voice against artful 
intrigue, corrupting luxury, malicious slander, and 
hypocritical and mechanical devotion, by which 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 269 

the temple of the Lord is dishonoured ; and if he 
censured that race of vipers who have the name 
of virtue on their lips, but whose hearts are 
devoted to vice, would he not be made an object 
of universal obloquy ? If, again, he addressed 
those who show a vindictive and revengeful spirit, 
and said to them, " Love your enemies ;" and if 
he turned towards the blind multitude and said, 
" This people draweth nigh unto me with their 
mouth, and honoureth me with their lips; but 
their heart is far from me. But in vain they 
do worship me, teaching for doctrines the com- 
mandments of men," (Matt. xv. 8, 9,) would he 
not be designated and treated in turns as an enthu- 
siast, a revolutionist, a sectarian, a propagator of 
doctrines inimical to the established worship, and 
as an audacious enemy of the throne and altar? 
"Would there not still be found accusers and a 
Caiaphas ? and, if even a new Pilate was to wash 
his hands before the people, and say, "I am inno- 
cent of the blood of this just man," would not the 
angry and enraged people still, as before, cry out, 
" Crucify him, crucify him? " 

- Alas ! even in our days, the light of truth still 
has to struggle with the darkness of error and the 
interests of egotism ; and thence it is that, es every 
one that doeth evil hateth the light, neither cometh 
to the light, lest his deeds should be reproved," 



270 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

seeing that every one feels his imworthiness. But 
fc the word of God remaineth for ever, and truth 
will triumph." Your thrones and kingdoms will be 
crumbled into dust by the hand of time ; your 
titles and orders of distinction will all waste away : 
your worldly wisdom will be forgotten ; and the 
fruits of complaisance and flattery be for ever 
destroyed. But eternal truth will continue to 
exist and will be your judge ; will condemn you, 
not only in the hearts of the just, but also in the 
conscience of your accomplices ; and not only by 
the mouth of posterity, but also by the mouth of 
Him who judges the living and the dead, amidst 
the terrors of the eternal future. Continue, there- 
fore, to persecute the propagators of truth; but 
as to the truth itself, know that you can neither 
bury it in the tomb, confine it with chains, nor 
pronounce the sentence of its banishment from the 
empire of the soul. Destroy, if you dare to do 
so, the confessors of truth ; you cannot, however, 
put to death the soul, the immortal fountain of 
thought, and the seat of everlasting truth. 

" But he that doeth truth corneth to the light, 
that his deeds may be made manifest that they are 
wrought in God." He comes to the light because he 
acts by the power of God ; God is with him, and 
operates in him ; for it is from God that truth ema- 
nates. He comes to the light because he fears not 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 271 

the tribunal of truth. His works are done after God; 
why should he fear man ? The friend of truth, so 
dreadful and obnoxious to the wicked, himself 
fears nothing. 

Such is the power of truth, that it fills its wor- 
shippers with sublime courage, and teaches them 
to despise the terrors of death. By it, strength- 
ened infirmity may venture to face the presence 
of the most mighty and powerful masters of the 
earth. By it, the most humble individual acquires 
a dignity which is respected even by the trembling 
tyrant whose conscience accuses him of the crimes 
he has committed. By it, the most ignorant are 
gifted with the power of mortifying and bringing 
to shame the artifices of insidious eloquence and 
declamation. The luminous rays of truth electrify 
the soul with marvellous rapidity ; and we try in 
vain to shut our eyes against their brilliancy. 
The wicked man may deny openly the power of 
truth ; but he is not the less forced to pay homage 
to it in secret ; neither is his heart the less pierced 
with its arrows. 

A more noble and glorious conquest is obtained 
by enriching the human race with a new truth, 
than is acquired even by the subjection of a whole 
kingdom by force of arms. Kingdoms pass away, 
for they are of this earth ; but truth endures for 
ever. Why, pusillanimous Christian, do you 



272 THE POWER OF TRUTH. 

tremble at the idea, that by performing your 
duties, you will create yourself enemies ? Duty 
is from God ; but what do you learn from man ? 
Why should you blush at being, in the eyes of 
mortals, as just, loyal, and pious as you possibly 
can be, or even at appearing as virtuous as you 
really are and feel in your heart ? Come, there- 
fore, to the light, that thy deeds may be made 
manifest that they are wrought in God. 

Do not then despair, ye that suffer under the 
yoke of oppression ! It is in vain that your inno- 
cence is condemned to pine away in obscurity; 
the day of truth must penetrate, sooner or later, 
even the tomb itself. If the living preserve an 
unworthy silence, God will give voice to the dead, 
so that you may be justified. Hope on, there- 
fore, for God will not suffer virtue to be for ever 
oppressed; for virtue is truth. It will always 
find a defender even in him who may have sworn 
its destruction. Despair not, therefore, all ye 
whom the world despises and calumniates, because 
you have acted according to truth. One day 
your right will be acknowledged ; and one day 
truth will bring before its tribunal the whole host 
of your adversaries. 

O Thou, pure and inexhaustible source of all 
light and of all truth, my God and Father ! it is 
to Thee that my souL is lifted on the wings of 



THE POWER OF TRUTH. 273 

devotion ; it is in Thee that it desires to sanctify 
and strengthen itself. I also, according to Thy 
ordinance, will act in conformity with truth, with- 
out the dread of man ; I will banish from me all 
the errors and passions which mislead me, and 
remain faithful to myself, in acting up to the laws 
promulgated by our Redeemer. In future, I will 
cease to be the echo of the language which the 
world may choose to receive and repeat, but which 
my conscience condemns. Far from me be that 
hypocrisy which, eager for corrupt praise, is base 
enough to sanction publicly what it condemns in 
secret ! — No ; both in word and deed, I will 
belong wholly to truth, in my conversation and in 
my works, for it is that which will judge me ; I 
will consecrate, and if necessary sacrifice, to truth 
my life, after the example of Jesus and so many 
magnanimous martyrs. 

O God, purify me! strengthen me by thy 
truth — thy word is truth itself. — Amen. 



^t^^cy 






CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT 
IN LIFE. 



St. Mark, i. 16—18. 
11 Now as he walked by the sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and Andrew 
his brother casting a net into the sea : for they were fishers. And 
Jesus said unto them, Come ye after me, and I will make you to 
become fishers of men. And straightway they forsook their nets, 
and followed him." 

There is a destructive malady under which many 
men are forced to suffer and linger, the nature of 
which is a distaste, and accordingly a discontent, 
for their condition, profession, and establishment 
in life. This malady exists more universally than 
is generally imagined, and produces greater mis- 
chief in private than is usually believed. Whilst 
many a countenance puts on an expression of 
cheerfulness, a secret poison consumes the beating 
heart ; and the communication of the existence of 
the disease is withheld, because it is known by the 
sufferer that his complaint would be of no avail. 
Nevertheless, the confession is sometimes made 
when in the circle of a' few intimate friends ; and 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 275 

the individual who feels his misery sighs forth, at 
intervals, such expressions as, " If, instead of my 
present condition of life, I had selected a different 
one, I should have become quite another being ; I 
should have found more happiness than has been 
my portion in that I was forced to follow." Or, 
again, " Circumstances obliged me to select this 
profession, to contract this marriage, although I 
knew, beforehand, that it would not make me 
happy. Had my taste and my heart been con- 
sulted, it would have turned out very differently." 
Nothing, truly, can be more mournful than the 
situation which places a man in continual contra- 
diction with himself. The desires of his heart 
constantly clash with the duties of his condition ; 
his daily occupations excite within him aversion, 
and he pursues them with indifference, perhaps 
even with disgust. He never witnesses, without 
secret regret and sorrow, the fate of those who 
are, or appear to be, more happy than himself. 
All his connections and relations in life only pro- 
duce thorns instead of roses ; and he enters with 
greater zeal into other affairs than those which 
concern himself. Thence arise a multitude of 
inconveniences and troubles ; but the reproaches 
called forth by his negligence produce but little 
or no effect upon him. He consoles himself with 
the idea that he cannot act otherwise; that it may 



276 CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 

be regarded as a happy chance if things do at all 
succeed with him, considering that, in his labours, 
he experiences neither delight nor pleasure. If 
he was in the situation more suitable to his taste, 
and if he could act in the condition most adapted 
to his inclinations, he would be found to be better, 
more zealous, and more worthy of consideration 
and esteem, than many others who were in the 
enjoyment of a more favourable position, but who, 
at the same time, knew not how to take advantage 
of it. He reproaches and condemns his parents, 
his relations and friends, or the fate which has not 
assigned to him, in this life, the condition for 
which he believes himself to be born. 

A similar feeling of discontent is painfully 
experienced also by many females, who silently 
suffer the affliction of being united in a marriage 
forced upon them, and completely opposed to their 
wishes. Very often it happens that females have 
no more liberty in their choice of a husband, with 
respect to his qualities and condition in life, than 
many young men in the choice of a profession 
or trade. Thence it is that marriage often pro- 
duces unhappiness, and especially so when no 
children are born to give a charm to that state, 
and the maternal feelings are wanting to fill up 
the melancholy void in the heart of the wife. The 
uniformity of domestic life only aggravates her 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 277 

sufferings ; and her imagination sometimes finds a 
pleasure in secretly indulging in desires, at least 
exceptionable, if not culpable. She regards her- 
self as the victim of destiny ; she seeks consolation 
away from her home in frivolous and trifling 
amusements ; the domestic arrangements of home 
become confused and disordered ; and, eventually, 
the husband himself has recourse to pleasures and 
enjoyments abroad as a substitute for the lost 
comforts and delights of home. The married 
couple no longer feel that confidence towards each 
other so necessary to their happiness ; and each 
studiously conceals within his or her breast desires 
which they dare not venture to make known to 
each other. Thus it is that the foundation is laid 
for the coldness which produces misconceptions 
and disputes ; and, too often, when followed up 
by unwise and imprudent conduct, it becomes a 
source of dissention and animosity, until, at length, 
the holy tie is broken of itself, or it is dissolved 
by legal authority. 

The discrepancy between the tastes of men and 
their condition or calling, is a frequent and some- 
times disastrous cause of their misery. But what 
is the origin of this evil which thus destroys 
domestic happiness to the very root ? 

The foundation, no doubt, is already laid by the 
hand of fate in the earliest moment. Man does 



278 CHOICE OP STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 

not choose his own disposition and talents ; they 
are born with him, and it is education and expe- 
rience which work their development. But they 
call forth also a predominant taste for this or that 
kind of life, adapted to the faculties of each indi- 
vidual. If, on the other hand, man finds it 
impossible to attain the position in w r hich he could 
make his talents most available, thence must 
necessarily arise an internal contradiction, the 
source of continual discontent. 

It often happens that the talents and taste of a 
young man are displayed too late ; and, were even 
his parents ever so much inclined and able to 
introduce him to the most suitable career, they still 
cannot know which may prove the best adapted 
for him. We often see young men, to whom is 
left the liberty of choice, mistaken even in them- 
selves, and embrace a profession for which they 
will never be fitted w T hen their powers have become 
completely developed. 

We have beheld men of superior talents, capable 
of governing nations with wisdom, or of enlarging 
the field of science, forced by adverse circumstances 
and events, to devote their life to agricultural or 
mechanical pursuits. Ought we, when witnessing 
this striking contrast, to reproach the wisdom of 
God in the distribution of His gifts? Certainly 
not ! For this agriculturist has, with a laudable 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 279 

spirit, exerted himself to improve the cultivation of 
the earth by new inventions; and the mechanic, 
gifted with talent, has spared no pains to bring his 
art to a state of perfection hitherto quite unknown. 
Providence, in order to promote the happiness of 
mankind, had appointed them to a station in which 
such distinguished and elevated minds are not 
often to be met. The plan of the creations of God, 
and of the destinies directed by his providence, is 
always more comprehensive than we can possibly 
imagine. Nothing takes place without an object; 
the smallest plant has not been fixed in the spot 
we find it in without a motive ; and the stones we 
stumble over in the field are not placed there 
without some useful intention. 

But the short-sightedness of man cannot always 
penetrate the profound views of the Ruler of the 
universe ; and a self-love and conceit, which are 
ever the fruits of ignorance or half-knowledge, 
reproaches with arrogance where the human soul 
ought to employ no other language than the silence 
of adoration. 

Finally, when the object which Providence points 
out to man is not obtained, the fault always rests 
with man. His passions and his follies have 
caused him to strike into a wrong path, and have 
blinded him against his real good. It is not 
God who creates the struggles within the soul of 



^80 CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 

man, but it is man who opposes trie designs of 
God. 

Parents themselves, in the education of their 
children, often sow the seeds of this future discon- 
tent. The ambition of the father, the vanity of 
the mother, disguised under the names of love and 
tenderness, ensure, by their imprudent conduct, 
the eventual unhappiness of their progeny. The 
sons receive an education that is not at all propor- 
tioned to the career of life which the circumstances 
they are placed in render it expedient in them to 
embrace. They are accustomed in early life to 
live as if they were masters, whilst they can never 
expect to be otherwise than servants. Their 
heads are filled with matter which has no connection 
whatever with the knowledge necessary to an ar- 
tisan. Is it then to be wondered at, if the young 
man expresses disgust for a pursuit he follows from 
necessity, after he has received a taste for occupa- 
tions totally different in their nature ? 

It often happens that parents, in their pride, 
decide upon the future career of the infant whilst 
yet in its cradle, before they can even know 
whether or not it may have the inclinations and 
dispositions necessary to fulfil the duties. It is 
determined upon that, for the glory of its family, 
it shall occupy a more brilliant position than either 
its father or forefathers* Thus, the son of the 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 281 

artisan is destined for trade or commerce, although 
he may not possess any fortune ; and the son of 
the plain citizen, without talents or vocation for 
study, attends the university, and seeks to become 
a master of arts — a minister of the established 
church. But, alas ! often too late, and when the 
better portion of life has been consumed in the 
preparation for a station so ambitiously chosen, 
the error is perceived and acknowledged, and 
pride is followed by repentance. 

Parents only feel the error they have committed 
when they behold their son break down in the 
career they have thrown him into, or when they 
find him remain stationary below mediocrity ; 
without being able, for want of the necessary 
means, to gain independence or dignity in the 
station to which they had made him aspire. 

The mania which exists with many parents to 
have their children, as well as themselves, elevated 
above their condition, is unfortunately an evil 
which is too general in the present day. Man- 
kind no longer knows how to seek and find happi- 
ness and contentment in the lot which has been 
assigned to it by Providence, but in its self-love is 
resolved to revise and improve the ordinances of 
Him who directs and regulates our destinies. 

This error is more especially observable in the 
education of females. Far from forming their 



282 CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 

mind for the simplicity and for the love of domestic 
life, which should render happy the future partner 
of their life, they are accustomed to pursuits and 
pleasures for which it often happens that their 
husband feels no taste, and which his fortune can 
not afford. Instead of keeping together and 
economising the marriage portion, which would 
assist the husband in his speculations, it is too 
often spent in luxury, in the hope that a rich man 
will prefer the brilliant accomplishments of a 
young person educated for the fashionable world, 
to the advantages presented by the possession of a 
moderate fortune and a modest and simple, but 
sincere and virtuous, exterior. The consequences 
of this line of conduct, or rather this mismanage- 
ment, are unhappily but too well known. The 
honest man, who feels that he is not in a state to 
meet so many expenses, or to satisfy the many 
wants to which the spoilt and delicately brought 
up daughter has always been accustomed, 
renounces with a wise prudence all idea of uniting 
himself to her. He selects in preference a female 
who, instead of a love for luxury, brings him 
domestic virtues and a dower sufficient to con- 
tribute to their mutual comfort and happiness. 
Elegant poverty is passed by ; and, consequently, 
the plans of ambitious vanity become less extra- 
vagant in their hopes and prospects in proportion 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 283 

as age increases and the bloom of youth fades 
away. 

Thence arises the great number of unmarried 
females, especially in the larger towns, where the 
mania for rivalling those that are richer than 
themselves increases every day. Thence proceeds 
the melancholy state of those females whose days 
are consumed in loneliness, or who are reduced to 
the extremity of uniting themselves to men whose 
education and condition in life, by no means cor- 
respond with the hopes and expectations their 
imagination so glowingly represented to them. 
Here is seen the contradiction which exists be- 
tween the distinguished talents, the noble inclina- 
tions, on which some pique themselves, and the 
sphere in which they are obliged to limit their 
action ; here we may trace the origin of that 
disgust for their condition which brings as its 
consequence the ruin of domestic peace and the 
destruction of the happiness of married life ! 

But one thing which contributes much to corrupt 
the mind of young people of both sexes, and to 
inspire them with false ideas as to their vocation, 
is the taste for reading works they cannot or ought 
not to understand, and which has become so pre- 
valent in both large and small towns. They fancy 
they are forming their mind and cultivating their 
taste when they peruse, without any selection in 



284 CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 

their choice, and without consulting the experience 
of another person, intriguing romances, frivolous 
tales, and dramatic compositions of an immoral 
character, instead of those works useful for their 
instruction, and wherein they may learn the duties of 
their future state in life. They seek less to cultivate 
the mind than to occupy their imagination, already 
too much excited, with agreeable and delusive 
reveries. Their natural feelings become heightened 
and exalted, and attain a degree of sensibility 
which grows into folly or disease. Ordinary life 
appears to them insipid and repulsive, because it 
presents an aspect more severe than the fantastic 
world of their romances. They expect to find in 
this world things which it cannot and ought not 
to grant; and they reproach and condemn life, 
when they ought only to complain of the dis- 
ordered state of their mind and the vices of their 
education. 

I do not, however, wish at all to censure the 
productions of the imagination, but solely the mis- 
use and abuse made of them by young people, and 
which is sanctioned by the negligence or indiffer- 
ence of parents. The recreations which have been 
provided for the mind of youth by men of genius 
and talent, ought not to monopolise all their time, 
nor form their most essential occupation. The 
food that is prepared with a view to gratify the 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 285 

palate should never be allowed to take the place 
of more substantial and strengthening nourish- 
ment. 

Young man, I speak to you of the future, of 
the happiness of your life, and of the choice of 
your condition and profession. Reflect deliberately 
and seriously upon the career you would wish to 
enter for the rest of your days. It is difficult, nay 
sometimes impossible, to retract steps once taken. 

Do not allow yourself to decide in your choice 
of a condition by pride, by vanity, or by that levity 
of mind, which builds the future upon the un- 
certain favours of fortune ; but examine well the 
profession for which you are most suitable, and in 
which you may most distinguish yourself. 

Consider, however, at the same time, whether 
or not you possess the necessary external resources 
which may assist you in the career you desire to 
enter upon. Decide within yourself solely by 
the conviction that the condition you have chosen 
is that in which you can best render useful for 
society the gifts with which God has endowed 
you. Do not contemplate honour or easy gain 
alone, but also meritorious gain, and the certainty 
that you will do honour to your condition. Every 
profession is honourable, if you are the man to 
obtain the crown it offers for knowledge, applica- 
tion, and utility. Make your selection, but with 



286 CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 

prudence and with the consideration of the number 
of other men who devote themselves to the same 
condition, with whom you will come into rivalship, 
and what claims you possess for pre-eminence over 
them ? 

Make your choice ; but remember that a wise 
man is in his proper place in every situation of 
life, and in every position, whether high or low. # 
Remember that it is better to be the first in a 
condition less brilliant, than the last in a profes- 
sion reputed to be more distinguished. 

If you have already made your choice, or if you 
are constrained to make it against your wish, try 
to reconcile yourself to the condition you have 
embraced, and in this subjection respect the will of 
God. Pursue your career with confidence, for it 
will lead you to happiness ; perhaps you may not 
now so conceive it, but you will one day acknow- 
ledge it to be so, and you will render thanks to 
Providence. It depends upon yourself to make 
yourself useful in your profession, and to acquire 
therein consideration and fortune. Such must be 
your portion if you never deviate from these three 
rules : Labour with perseverance to become the 
most perfect in your situation; make yourself 
friends in your sphere, by rendering service and 
acting with benevolence to all around you ; and 
never separate yourself from God, nor oppose his 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 287 

will ; for he alone can bless your career in life, 
and assure your happiness. 

Yes, even in an unpleasant but unchangeable 
situation, Providence has given you the power to 
be happy, if you possess sufficient strength and 
reason not to rebel against your destiny : and if 
you have courage to subdue your obstinacy, and 
to follow the vocation Providence has assigned 
to you. 

Your discontent does not proceed from your 
situation, but from your vanity and your stubborn- 
ness. Look around you, and behold how many 
thousands of men live contented in the same position 
as yourself, and without the advantages you enjoy ! 
But your obstinacy and your faint-heartedness 
make you more and more insensible to the good you 
might find in your sphere ; you lose by your own 
fault the days of happiness, which you would 
otherwise see smile upon you were you more wise. 

None can select the condition he wishes to fill 
in the world ; it is God who chooses! He knows 
better than yourself what, in this vast concatena- 
tion of destinies, can best promote your welfare, 
and the general good. Often it happens that the 
prince longs to descend from the throne into the 
happy privacy of the middle ranks of society ; the 
soldier desires the quiet and secure position of the 
peasant ; the ecclesiastic wishes to exchange his 



288 CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 

sphere for the more active occupation of the 
merchant ; and the tradesman would prefer the 
less occupied but more steady life of the artisan. 
Thus, each condition of life has its troubles, which 
are peculiar to it. 

Therefore, fulfil your duties within the sphere 
in which you have been placed; pluck up or 
trample on the thorns you may meet with ; be less 
sensible to the vexations of your condition in life, 
and more alive to the pleasures it presents. There 
is no profession in which you might not develop 
and make use of your talents. You wish for 
honour, but no condition can of itself give you that; 
it is the particular ability you show in your own 
situation that can make you worthy of esteem. 

And to you too, young female, let me address a 
few words of good advice. Your future lot in 
life is uncertain ; you know not whether your hand 
may be demanded in marriage or not, or by whom. 
Endeavour, nevertheless, to become such as not to 
be unhappy with your husband, whoever he may 
be. Expect little from chance, but depend much 
upon yourself. Do not contract those habits of 
luxury and refinement, which at a later period you 
may find it difficult to enjoy or to give up. Let 
your chief ornaments be modesty, morality, and 
love for domestic life ; and let your style of dress 
be dictated by a taste for simplicity and purity, and 



CHOICE OF STATION AND PURSUIT IN LIFE. 289 

avoid all display of fashion : the sensible man never 
selects his wife for her outward adornment, but for 
her virtues — the ornament of her soul. He always 
yields, with more justice, a preference for her 
whose modest exterior announces her wants and 
pretensions to be limited, but who is gifted with a 
dowry rich in her love of order, a saving disposi- 
tion, and a desire for domestic life. 

O my Father, who art in heaven, and who hast 
assigned unto me a condition according to Thy 
will, let me fulfil its duties w^ith dignity; it is most 
adapted to my true interest, and it is Thou that 
hast placed me there. In fulfilling with honest 
zeal, and without interested or ambitious motives, 
the duties of my situation in all their extent, I shall 
accomplish Thy sacred will. — Amen. 






THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 



St. Luke, xxi. 24. 
" And they shall fall by the edge of the sword, and shall be led away 
captive into all nations : and Jerusalem shall be trodden down of 
the Gentiles, until the times of the Gentiles be fulfilled." 

Whatever difference of opinion may have pre- 
vailed amongst our earliest Christian forefathers, 
relating to matters upon which human reason 
cannot pronounce its judgment with certainty, 
they were nevertheless united in their feelings 
upon the subject of recognising the sanctification 
as the main object of the doctrine of the Saviour. 
They continued for a long time connected together 
by the ties of humility, patience, and meekness. 
They considered themselves as constituting one 
body, animated and sustained by the spirit of 
Jesus Christ. They acknowledged one only 
Saviour, one only faith, one only baptism, one 
only God and Father of all, above all, with all, 
and in all. There might exist a diversity of ideas 
respecting divine things; but the object remained 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 291 

the same, trie sanctification by truth, until all had 
arrived at the unity of faith and knowledge of the 
Son of God, as Paul expresses himself when 
addressing the Ephesians : " Till we all come in 
the unity of the faith, and of the knowledge of the 
Son of God, into a perfect man, unto the measure 
of the stature of the fulness of Christ " (iv. 13). 

Meantime, whilst the Gospel was silently pro- 
pagated from land to land, and from people to 
people, the period had arrived when the Jewish 
empire was to be dissolved, and the capital de- 
stroyed, as had been predicted by Jesus Christ. 

This event was attended with the most important 
consequences for Christianity ; only a few indivi- 
duals now survived of those who could glory in 
having been the disciples and immediate com- 
panions of the Saviour during his sojourn upon 
earth; but all retained the recollection of his great 
prophecy, handed down by oral tradition and the 
sacred writings of the Evangelists. The terrible 
accomplishment, in all its exact details, of the pre- 
diction of Jesus, could not but exalt beyond doubt 
the faith of his surviving followers. 

The same as at the period when Jesus was 
amongst them, forty years previously, the Jews 
were now still filled with blind and obstinate zeal 
for their religious rites, and Mosaic regulations, 
without having become better men ; on the con- 
- u2 



292 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

trary, their hearts were corrupted by selfish base- 
ness. They attended, certainly, the worship of 
their temple with studious care, observed the 
fasts strictly, prayed in regular order according to 
prescription, and imagined with that to have ful- 
filled all their religious duties. They calculated 
upon having purified themselves from all sin by 
the sacrifices, which only served to enrich the 
priests; the possessions of the earth, money, 
honours, and the pleasures of the senses, were 
alone the object of their existence. Each only 
thought of himself and his own hearth, indifferent 
to everything else; everything was mercenary 
with them ; and birth, descent, riches, and beauty 
were held in greater estimation than either know- 
ledge, virtue, or merit. Mutual confidence, faith, 
and fidelity had long since vanished; and even 
patriotism had yielded to national pride and a 
hatred and contempt towards the neighbouring 
nations around. The Jews plunged more and more 
into a state of ignorance, and despised all who 
possessed knowledge and were anxious to impart 
information amongst the people, persecuting them 
as innovators, and treating them as enemies to the 
ancient order of things. They adhered more 
firmly to their blind prejudices, and would not 
imagine for a moment the possibility that Judaea, 
the people of God, and the holy city should ever 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 293 

be destroyed. They were certainly not insensible 
to the oppression they endured under the tyranni- 
cal sway of Rome ; but this universal state of 
necessity and danger, far from reminding them of 
that one thing which might save them, and which 
was ofTered to them by Jesus, only served to 
harden them the more in their egotism. Instead 
of seeking for the salvation of the country, not 
in hoarding up riches, but in the practice of 
virtue, in a nobleness of sentiment, and in the 
moral accomplishment of their duty towards 
God, they divided themselves into hostile par- 
ties, hating, despising, and persecuting each 
other. 

Thus, it was an easy task for the Romans to 
oppress more and more a nation enervated by cor- 
ruption and weakened by ignorance and discord. 
Judaea, after having for a time the appearance of 
liberty, under native kings, dependent upon the 
Romans, was now treated as a mere province, and 
ruled with arbitrary sway by Roman governors^ 
who even arrogated to themselves the right of 
control over the temple and the nomination of the 
high priests. With each succeeding year, the 
people were harassed and burthened with fresh 
taxes and heavy duties ; the country became quite 
exhausted, and the authorities seizing, at last, the 
money contained in the sacred treasury, only 



294 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

replied to the complaints of the people with 
haughty insolence and scoffing insults. 

But all this suffering and misery with which 
they were visited, produced no change in the 
feelings, nor improvement in the conduct, of the 
people of Israel. The higher classes crouched and 
prostrated themselves with abject humility before 
the rulers; and, throwing upon the shoulders of 
the lower classes as much as was in their power of 
the public burdens, thus reduced a greater portion 
of them to beggary. In their blind selfishness 
they did not remember that their fortune must be 
swallowed up in the gulf of public misery when- 
ever the despair of the people should lead them to 
revolt. 

The disposition for rebellion had already mani- 
fested itself on several occasions. Judas the 
Galilean, in concert with Zadoc the Sardinian, 
had already excited and stirred up the multitude, 
and furnished them with arms, under the pretext 
that the law of Moses ordained that Jehovah alone 
was to be obeyed, and that no human ruler was 
to be acknowledged. But the vigilance of the 
Romans promptly suppressed the tumult, which 
was punished by fresh burdens and renewed 
taxation. 

The discontent became now more and more 
general; numerous families were in a state of star- 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 295 

vation ; many abandoned their homes altogether, 
and resorted to robbery and murder; debased 
already by the want of education, they, in their 
wild state, had become wholly inaccessible to 
generous feelings. The whole country was nothing 
else but one scene of universal pillage and devas- 
tation, and there was no longer security either for 
life or property. And amidst all this misery, false 
prophets presented themselves to make a profit of 
the disorder : here was to be seen a new Messiah, 
and in another quarter rose up a champion who 
was to re-establish the people of God and the 
throne of David over the bodies of the slaughtered 
Romans. One of these, an Egyptian Jew, suc- 
ceeded even in collecting together a force of thirty 
thousand men ; he encamped upon the Mount of 
Olives, before Jerusalem, and promised the super- 
stitious and bigoted multitude that he would prove 
the divinity of his mission by causing the walls of 
Jerusalem, at a simple sign, to fall down before 
them. But the Governor, Felix, with his prac- 
tised troops, surprised these hordes of robbers, put 
the greater portion of them to the sword, and, 
dispersing the rest, visited the sedition with severe 
and dreadful vengeance. And this is what Jesus 
had predicted : " And then, if any man shall say 
to you, Lo, here is Christ ; or lo, he is there ; 
believe him not. For false Christs and false pro- 



296 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

phets shall rise, and shall show signs and wonders. 
to seduce, if it were possible, even the elect. 5 '* 
(St. Mark, xiii. 21, 22.) 

The injustice of the Roman governors, and their 
contempt for divine and human laws, equalled, a: 
length, the abjection and disunion of the Israelites. 
For, whenever a nation allows itself to be trodden 
under feet, and crushed by the overbearing pride 
and tyranny of a few unjust rulers in authority, it 
is always the vices of the people which furnish 
them with the power. Whilst the Eomans were 
engaged in committing the most shameful abuses, 
the high priests were to be seen in constant dis- 
pute with the inferior priesthood ; and, amongst the 
people, one party was continually opposed to the 
other. All this could onlv end in a mortal hatred 
against the oppressors, and a desire for vengeance : 
one universal revolution was the result, and the 
Roman garrisons were forced to surrender the 
various strong places they occupied, and even 
Jerusalem itself was given up. The wild and 
furious people, now quite unmanageable, and 
without any plan, abandoned themselves com- 
pletely to the commission of every possible crime 
and outrage. Menahem, the son of Juda, the 
Galilean, continued for a long time at the head of 
the revolutionists, who fought with success against 
the Roman legions, until Vespasian, the subse- 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 297 

quent emperor of Rome, advanced with a superior 
army, and, making himself master of Galilee, laid 
siege to Jerusalem. 

The misery had now reached its height. But a 
people without virtue is a people without strength. 
The old party spirit of the Jews was not appeased 
by even the impending dangers with which they 
were surrounded : in the very heart of the besieged 
city, the hatred and hostility between the various 
parties still prevailed, the populace plundering 
the rich, and murdering the wise men. The 
greatest atrocities were committed, each thinking 
less to save his country than to crush his rival; 
public safety and preservation were no longer 
considered; but personal revenge alone formed 
the object to be gratified. 

Thus arrived the moment predicted by Jesus 
Christ : " And when ye shall see Jerusalem 
compassed with armies, then know that the desola- 
tion thereof is nirfi. Then let them which are in 
Judea flee to the mountains ; and let them which 
are in the midst of it depart out ; and let not them 
that are in the countries enter thereinto." (St. 
Luke^ xxi. 20, 21.) The followers of Jesus had 
remembered these words, for all had quitted the 
city before the commencement of the siege, and 
had retired to Pella, a Coelosyrian town, formerly 
situated in the half-tribe of Manassia. Here they 



298 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

formed a new community, and awaited with painful 
anxiety the sequel of events. 

Vespasian, the Eoman general, cunningly 
availed himself of the prevailing discord among 
the Jews, and the hatred of parties in Jerusalem. 
He purposely allowed the war he carried on 
against them to extend during a period of several 
years; he was anxious that this nation, without 
virtue and without discipline, should weaken itself 
by its internal divisions, and prepare for itself its 
own ruin. This object he attained when, having been 
elected emperor, he transferred the command of 
the army into the hands of his son Titus. Israel, at 
this moment, similar to the fruit that falls from the 
overburdened tree, was completely ripe for destruc- 
tion. Titus now besieged the city more closely ; 
the danger increased, but with that increased also 
the fury of parties within the besieged walls. The 
people, however, defended themselves with the 
rage of despair; and Titus, his heart filled with 
feelings of humanity, felt pity towards that ancient 
and splendid city, so renowned for its glory. 

He was desirous and willing to make peace with 
the Jews, but they obstinately refused all his pro- 
posals. Meantime their misery became, through 
the horrors produced among themselves, more 
and more awful. The Eoman general, finding 
there was no chance or prospect of concluding a 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 299 

peace, made a decisive assault upon the city. He 
made himself master of Fort Antonia, the Jews 
gradually retreating, sword in hand, from street 
to street towards the temple ; this sacred edifice, 
however, was also assaulted and captured, and 
became a prey to the flames, more, however, 
through the rage and negligence of the Jews 
themselves than the revenge of the conquerors. 
The people, still fighting, retreated now to the more 
elevated part of the city ; but this also fell into the 
hands of the Romans, and the whole of Jerusalem 
was soon reduced to a heap of ruins and ashes. 

In this war, which had continued during a period 
of nearly five years, more than a million of Jews 
perished. Thus was accomplished the dreadfully 
prophetic word of Jesus Christ : " As for these 
things which ye behold, the days will come, in the 
which there shall not be left one stone upon 
another that shall not be thrown down. For these 
be the days of vengeance, that all things which are 
written may be fulfilled. But woe unto them that 
are with child, and to them that give suck in those 
days ! for there shall be great distress in the land, 
and wrath upon this people. And they shall fall 
by the edge of the sword, and shall be led away 
captive into all nations ; and Jerusalem shall be 
trodden down of the Gentiles, until the times of 
the Gentiles be fulfilled." (St. Luke xxi. 6, 23, 24.) 



300 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

Nearly ninety-seven thousand Jews were made 
prisoners, driven into other countries, and sold 
like cattle, in the public markets. Jerusalem, 
which, in former periods, had been conquered five 
different times, was now entirely razed to the 
ground, seventy years after the birth of Christ, so 
that not one stone stood upon another— a mass of 
rubbish forming now the substitute for that once 
grand and pompous city! Those poor Jewish 
families, which still remained in the land, were 
treated as slaves, and subjected to the most heavy 
imposts, for the enjoyment of the melancholy 
pleasure of still dwelling on the desolate spot of 
their forefathers. Eoman soldiers, whose time of 
service had expired, divided among themselves 
the abandoned habitations, and established them- 
selves at Emmaus, Nazareth, and other places 
around. 

In spite of the humanity with which, subse- 
quently, some of the emperors treated the Jews, 
they nevertheless persisted, after their dispersion, 
in their senseless hatred against other nations. 
Amidst an ignominy which had visited no other 
nation, they still held themselves to be the chosen 
people of Jehovah, and, scattering and plotting 
here and there revolts, they drew upon them- 
selves the hostility of the various nations and 
their governments. Even in Judea itself, where, 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 301 

during the peace, their number had considerably 
increased, a numerous body had rebuilt their 
dwellings amidst the ruins of Jerusalem, they 
again, fifty years after the first universal calamity 
of their country, raised the standard of rebellion. 
A new Messiah, called Bar-Cochab, overpowered 
the weak garrisons stationed in various fortified 
towns. The Romans, however, returned in consi- 
derable force, and Judea was for ever changed into 
a desert. Nearly six hundred thousand Jews were 
destroyed by the sword, and those who survived 
were dragged in chains into slavery. Jerusalem 
was thus for ever ruined ; the malediction of Hea- 
ven appeared to rest eternally over this fated city. 
The heathens had built for themselves, out of its 
ruins, close to the spot, a city which bore the 
name iElia Capitolina ; and, a few centuries after- 
wards, it resumed the name of Jerusalem, without, 
however, being on the same spot as the former 
capital. The Jews were forbidden to approach it 
on pain of death; but, eventually, they were 
permitted to visit once a year the holy scenes of 
former days, and there give utterance to their 
songs of lamentation. The new city was inhabited, 
during four centuries, by heathens ; after which it 
fell into the hands of the Arabs and Turks. Upon 
the mount on which, in former times, the temple 
of Jehovah stood, was built a Mahometan mosque. 



302 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

The Jews, led captives amongst the various 
nations, retained, even in their deplorable situa- 
tion, all their defects and bad dispositions. They 
always showed themselves selfish, seditious, and 
full of prejudice and superstition, as in the time 
of the Saviour of the world. They had formerly 
exclaimed, His blood be upon us and our children! 
Alas ! this maledictory vow was but too dreadfully 
fulfilled. They beheld the spiritual kingdom of 
God extend itself all over the world, founded, as 
it was, by him whom their fathers crucified upon 
the cross of Golgotha. This was the kingdom of 
the Messiah, predicted by the prophets. But they 
persevered obstinately in their incredulity, and in 
their contempt for all other religions and nations ; 
the more heavily they were oppressed, the more 
were they fortified in their attachment, not only to 
the law of Moses, but to all the superstitions 
invented by priests, and which circulated from 
mouth to mouth as interpretations of old or founda- 
tions of new laws. These traditions, thus verbally 
handed about, and subsequently put into writing 
and known by the name of the Talmud, became, 
in the hands of the Rabbins, a means of keeping 
the people in a state of subjection and dependence, 
and thus, in the universal ignorance it was their 
object to preserve, they maintained their own 
ascendancy and influence; 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 303 

This heavy yoke, which thus enslaved the mind 
of the people, contributed not a little to make 
them still more obstinate in their superstitious 
opinions, in their hopes, and in keeping them 
distinct and isolated from all other nations. Led 
astray by their national pride, and by their hatred 
for all that belonged not to themselves, they no 
longer held it to be sinful to betray and impose 
upon the stranger; and which drew upon them 
everywhere fresh ill-usage and persecution. Per- 
sians and Arabs, Egyptians and Romans, Turks 
and Christians, were all alike filled with aversion 
against this incorrigible race, so crippled in the 
mind, and equally hardened in their mad obstinacy 
and hereditary vices. And since the destruction 
of Jerusalem down to the present day, not a 
century has passed over, nor a country has hardly 
existed, where the descendants of Israel have not 
perished either by the sword, the bowstring, 
the rack, or some other equally cruel and dreadful 
punishment. To bear even the very name of Jew 
was often to the child a cause sufficient to merit 
death. Deprived of any fixed abode, they were 
often to be seen wandering amidst forests and 
deserts ; in no part respected, but, at most, only 
tolerated by pity and mercy, they were never 
certain of the enjoyment either of their property 
or lives. 



304 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

In vain did they turn their eyes to the ancient 
land of their fathers. For them there remained 
no longer a Judea, no longer a Mount Zion, no 
longer a temple upon the holy hill. They kissed, 
with abject submission, the dust from the feet of the 
nations they inwardly despised, with whom however 
they found an asylum, but by whom they were 
again turned adrift as soon as they had acquired 
some property by fraud and usury. Their con- 
tinually increasing numbers, amidst all their 
misery, once regarded as a source of glory and 
bliss, had become now a cause for malediction, and 
only served to aggravate their sufferings. As they 
had formerly expelled from amongst them, with 
implacable hatred, the disciples and instructors 
of the Christian religion, so now, in return, they 
found themselves and their descendants rejected 
with an animosity not less inexorable by the entire 
Christian world, more especially in the times of 
ignorance and barbarity. For, during a long 
period, the opinion was generally held amongst 
Christians, that the millions of Jews distributed 
in all parts of the earth had merited their unhappy 
fate, not so much on account of their obstinate 
prejudices and inward corruption, but rather 
through the crime committed by their fathers upon 
the life of Jesus Christ. 

Only in later times, when true Christianity had 



THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 305 

civilised the barbaric nations who styled themselves 
Christians, the followers of Moses began to feel the 
yoke of oppression become lighter, particularly in 
those countries where they joined in the progress 
of civilisation, and abjured their prejudices and 
exclusive hatred. The more wise governments 
at length acknowledged that the religious per- 
secutions practised by the Christians, and the 
oppression under which they held the Israelites, 
had not less contributed to their degradation than 
the alteration made by the Rabbins in the law of 
Moses. They were granted the right of possession 
and the privilege of civil liberty ; whilst pains were 
taken to humanely elevate them from the state 
of fraud and usury, in which they had hitherto 
existed, to that of honest and upright dealings. 
Men of enlightened mind and virtuous principles 
rose up from amongst them, and laboured for the 
improvement of their fellow-believers. 

Thus, after suffering during a period of nearly 
two thousand years, Israel may, at length, once 
more hope to emerge from its abject state, and 
resume its station in the social ranks of the 
human race. 

Eternal God ! my Father ; Father of all nations 
and of all worlds, a memorable and terrible 
example hast Thou shown, in the fate of the 
descendants of Abraham, to prove that malediction 



306 THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM. 

follows sin, and that the ruin of nations is the 
consequence of their corruption. Terrible art 
Thou, O God, in thy judgments! But it is not 
Thou that punisheth the people ; they chastise 
themselves. The transgression of thy divine 
ordinances is self-destruction, and vice produces 
self-torture. No, it is not Thou that hast con- 
demned this unfortunate people, thus dispersed 
all over the earth. 

I will not, therefore, condemn them ; I will not 
hate them; but I will show charity towards them, 
and soften their sufferings. "Whether it be Jew 
or Christian, he who loves virtue and the practice 
of justice, is agreeable to God. Many of the 
descendants of Israel, at the present day, in pro- 
portion as they increase in wisdom, honour more 
and more the divine spirit that animated Jesus, 
too long misunderstood by them. Let us, therefore, 
unite together for the cultivation of the spirit and 
the exaltation of the mind, until we all become 
united in faith, and the knowledge of the Son of 
God, the Father of all men. — Amen. 



THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 



St. Luke, xv. 10—24. 
" Likewise I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of 
God over one sinner that repenteth. And he said, A certain 
man had two sous : and the younger of them said to his father, 
Father, give me the portion of goods that falleth to me* And he 
divided unto them his living. And not many days after, the 
younger son gathered all together, and took his journey into a far 
country, and there wasted his substance with riotous living. And 
when he had spent all, there arose a mighty famine in that land : 
and he began to be in want. And he went and joined himself to 
a citizen of that country ; and he sent him into his fields to feed 
swine. And he would have filled his belly with the husks that 
the swine did eat ; and no man gave unto him. And when he 
came to himself, he said, How many hired servants of my father's 
have bread enough and to spare, and I perish with hunger ! I 
will arise and go to my father, and will say to him, Father, I have 
sinned against heaven and before thee, and I am no more worthy to 
be called thy son ; make me as one of thy hired servants. And he 
arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way 
off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on 
his neck, and kissed him. And the son said unto him, Father, 
I have sinned against heaven and in thy sight, and am no more 
worthy to be called thy son. But the father said to his servants, 
Bring forth the best robe and put it on him, and put a ring on his 
hand and shoes on his feet : and bring hither the fatted calf, and 
kill it ; and let us eat and be merry : For this, my son, was dead, 
and is alive again ; he was lost, and is found. And they began 
to be merry.' ' 

My age is this day increased by one year more ; 
and I am thus one year nearer the conclusion of 
my life. I have passed some happy days ; but, at 

x2 



308 THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 

the same time, I have experienced many sorrowful 
hours. Has my spirit thereby become matured ? 
Perhaps I may have acquired knowledge, or pro- 
bably, in certain respects, advanced in influence 
and importance ; my fortune, too, may have become 
augmented. But those are merely external ad- 
vantages, of which a single moment of misfortune 
may deprive me ; and even at the turn of the new 
year, all these possessions may be exchanged for 
a few handfuls of earth thrown upon my coffin ! 

And why have I been endowed with life ? Why 
have I passed this series of years, in joy and 
sorrow, amidst prosperity and misfortune, and 
changing events and revolutions ! Asa man, and 
inhabitant of this world, I know what I am in the 
eyes of my fellow-creatures, and in my various 
relations with the different connections that have 
succeeded each other ; but do I know what I am 
in the sight of God, as regards my future state and 
my participation in the eternal world ? 

Alas ! secret doubt and anxiety overwhelm my 
soul ! Another year of my earthly sojourn has 
passed away : am I in a better state than I was 
previously ? By what good and generous works 
have I distinguished this year ? Behold, all my 
deeds and acts stand now recorded before the 
Supreme Judge! Can I congratulate myself 
with confidence upon one good action ? Oh, how 



THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 309 

the little portion of good that I may have done is 
surrounded with circumstances with which I have 
to reproach myself! How unjustly have I acted 
towards others and towards myself! What cul- 
pable desires have I not nourished, and what 
unjust and uncharitable decisions and opinions have 
I not pronounced against my fellow-creatures! 
How numerous have been the ebullitions of anger, 
hatred, pride, and jealousy, that have escaped me ; 
and what inhuman thoughts, what impious and 
savage feelings, have at times overpowered me ! 
Unhappy that I am, where have been my prayers 
and my vows — what has been my religion, my 
faith ? Can I appear before my Judge in the last 
hour of my existence, otherwise than with a con- 
science stained with guilt ? How can I venture 
to hope for that eternal happiness which is alone 
the reward of just and virtuous conduct ? Can I 
depend upon the mercy of Him who is the severe 
and incorruptible Arbitrator of my life ? Alas ! I 
must hope for mercy; for I shall only be in 
heaven what I have tried to become on earth. 

And ought I to abandon myself to despair ? for 
who will give me back this lost year — this portion 
of my life — so foolishly spent? Shall I hastily 
invoke the merits of my Saviour, in order that I 
may share in the benefit to be derived therefrom ? 
And yet what sacrilegious madness, to pretend to 



310 THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 

wish for the holiness of the purest of beings, whilst 
I continue to take delight in the enjoyments of the 
world ! Alas ! the decrees of God are unchange- 
able, and his serious words are an eternal oracle ; 
for He says : " What man has sown, he must 
reap !" Therefore, let this new year He opens for 
me, be my year of preservation and safety ; let me 
struggle against all the sinful desires of my heart. 
But this will not suffice ; for the inanimate stone 
in my path is also exempt from sin. I will do 
more ; I will become wise, humane, and moderate 
— I will become a Christian. 

And it is not too late to follow such a resolution; 
for the Creator, who has prolonged my career, has 
permitted me to retain the strength to do good. 
God wishes the sinner to live, in order that he 
may perform those works which may purify his 
soul and bring him nearer to the presence of 
Himself. It is not too late ; for Jesus opens his 
arms that I may approach the Father through 
him, by obeying the commandments. Was it not 
he who said, Come to me all ye that are laden, and 
I will give you ease? I also am overburthened 
with sin, and I bear the weight of a life full of 
transgression. 

It is not too late ! . Nevertheless, my sins, the 
remembrance of which bends me down, and their 
melancholy consequences, form- altogether a far 



THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 311 

more considerable mass in proportion to the little 
good I perceive here and there, in the course of my 
past life. And I sometimes feel overwhelmed with 
fear and anxiety, when I ask myself, if the good I 
may do during the hours, days, and years, of the 
existence which God shall still grant me to enjoy, 
can banish the recollection of all the sinful acts 
I have committed in my past life ? Will not the 
numerous weeds that I formerly strewed along my 
path, choke up the few good seeds I may still strew 
around me ? Merciful Father, enter not into judg- 
ment with Thy servant; grant, that I may cast a veil 
over the time thus far lost in the career of my life ! 
God, in His mercy, exercises the same compas- 
sion towards a sinner, that a father shows towards 
his child. Even amongst mankind, the father 
willingly forgets the errors and faults committed 
by the child during a series of years, if that child 
repents and returns a better son to the arms 
of its father. The past transgressions have been 
sufficiently chastised, for each fault carries with 
it its pain and correction; and such is the 
organisation of the moral world, that all evil, 
great or little, is punished by the consequences 
it brings. Let the slave, then, of pleasure, 
think upon the hours to be passed in agony, 
and meditate on the sufferings of a worn-out 
constitution. Such is the punishment for his public 



312 THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 

or private sins, and which may, perhaps, pursue 
him to his bed of death. But you still live ! you 
arc not yet lost Turn, then, and with repenting 
heart, invoke the paternal goodness of your God ; 
change your conduct; support with filial resigna- 
tion the punishment of your sin ; and make your- 
self useful at the same time, useful to others, in 
turning them from the vices of which you have 
yourself been a victim. Save their soul, and draw 
it from perdition, and you will thus ennoble your 
own ; you will elevate yourself from the depth of 
corruption to a sublime and heavenly destiny. 

You, who, covetous of riches, incessantly stretch 
out your hands towards the goods of other persons ; 
you, who, envious of the honour of others, deprived 
them of their good name, and disturbed the repose 
and tranquillity of whole families ; you, who, full 
of ambition, beheld in the world only yourself, 
hating the one and despising the other of your 
fellow-creatures, and trampling underground inno- 
cence and justice ; you, whose debauchery lavishes 
away, in vain pleasure and mad intemperance, 
money enough to provide for the maintenance of 
whole families, and who, in the end, find your 
health reduced and completely shattered, and your 
conscience a prey to self-reproach ; you, who, 
inflamed with the passion for gambling, lost, for 
the sake of miserable gain, your precious hours in 



THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 313 

the anxiety of fear and solicitude of a hope always 
deceived, whilst at home might be seen to flow the 
bitter tears of sorrow and regret, produced by your 
thoughtless and unfeeling conduct: and you, 
finally, whose blunted sensibility or delicacy no 
longer possessed the power to withhold you from 
shameful and degrading crime — all of you, unhappy 
mortals, who now are a prey to shame, repentance, 
perhaps to despair, turn your sorrowful looks to 
a life spent without virtue and without benefit, and 
exclaim, It is too late ! Xo, no — be comforted — 
there is still time — you are not lost. Endure the 
punishment of your vices, but receive them as 
useful messengers from God: thev tell you to sow 
for the future better seed — seed which bears the 
fruit of eternal life. 

t€ Awake, thou that sleepest, and arise from the 
dead, and Christ shall give thee light" TEphes. v. 
14). Such is the voice which sounds in the ear of 
the sinner the Divine word. Awake, cries also the 
voice of his conscience, will you remain for ever 
plunged in the sleep of vice ? 

It is but too just that sin should be likened to 
death, for it too truly kills all that is noble in man 
— his soul, created for immortality. All that he has 
of earthly origin returns to the earth ; that alone 
which is divine contains the principle of life. 

" Because I live,ye shall live also" (John, xiv. 19). 



314 THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 

The sinner himself need not perish ; the road to 
salvation is open before him. His Father himself 
calls out to him. The voice of Nature is heard 
even in the sad results of transgression ; it calls to 
the sinner — Return to thy God; despair not; 
" There is joy in the presence of the angels of God 
over one sinner that repenteth." 

But let us not deceive ourselves with an erro- 
neous notion of the idea conveyed by the return to 
God, and the love of Jesus. We must not fancy 
we have gained the victory when, with a con- 
trite heart, we repent of our faults; when we 
shed torrents of tears, and we shun the pleasures 
of life, even the most innocent ; when we hurry 
from church to church, or when, on every occasion, 
we have the name of Jesus in our mouth, and 
console and re-assure ourselves with the thought 
of the merits of the blood of the Lamb offered up 
for our sins. Many persons, when they find their 
fortune and happiness destroyed by their career 
of vice, have recourse to this false path; their 
repentance is not love of Jesus, but a bitter 
dread of the consequences of their sins in the 
life to come. Their pretended conversion is not a 
return to God, but a fresh delusion, or excitement 
of their soul. Their overheated imagination soon 
becomes deadened, and their sensibility benumbed ; 
for nothing exaggerated' can endure long. Then 



THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 315 

they accuse themselves of lukewarmness and want 
of ardour ; they deplore the depravation of their 
nature; they return into their former state of 
anxiety, and they never arrive at the object their 
heart desires to attain. 

How, then, shall the sinner return to God? 
What can guarantee us the love of Jesus ? He 
himself, the eternal Son of the Father, has told 
us : " Ye are my friends if ye do whatsoever I 
command you." (John, xv. 14.) The Son of God, 
therefore, requires from us neither idle words, 
long and endless prayers, nor vain exclamations of 
Lord! Lord! Neither does he require strict and 
forced devotion, from which no good can arise, 
nor, in fact, the total denial of all innocent enjoy- 
ments of life; but, what he requires from the 
penitent and contrite sinner who implores his 
pardon, are deeds and works of sincere repentance 
and true amendment. 

What shall I do to be saved? asks he that 
sincerely desires to be the friend of Jesus. To 
which the Lord replies, Love God with all thy 
heart, and thy neighbour as thyself. 

Thus you will find the way that leads to your 
return to God; but this way is not so easy of 
access. To proceed along that path you must 
undergo a thousand struggles against inveterate 
passions, destructive habits, and the corruption of 



316 THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 

our proper nature. Doubtless, it is more easy to 
make prayers than to renounce voluptuousness 
and luxury, to constantly attend devout and pious 
assemblies than to reconcile ourselves with our 
enemies, and giving proofs of Christian affection 
to him who refuses all reconciliation : it is much 
more easy to fast and to sigh in lamentation than to 
act as the good father of a family after a life spent 
in dissipation and gambling; it is more easy to 
devoutly console ourselves with the wounds of 
Jesus than to heal the wounds we have ourselves 
inflicted by unkind words and uncharitable acts ; 
finally, it is more easy to distribute here and there 
trifling alms than to restore to the proper owner 
what we have acquired by cunning, fraud, and 
perjury. Meantime, the true and only road em- 
braces all that can be the most important to life 
and death ; the salvation of the soul, peace upon 
earth, and happiness in heaven. This is the only 
means by which we can hope to return to the 
grace and favour of God, in becoming the friend 
of Jesus, the great Saviour of mankind. It is only 
thus we can expect to attain the hope, that the 
Judge of the dead, casting over our past life the 
veil of his mercy, will say to us : " Thy sins are 
forgiven thee !" (Luke, vii. 48.) 

" my Father, I have sinned against heaven 
and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be 



THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 317 

called thy son/ 5 exclaimed the prodigal son to his 
father, in the language of the Scripture. But the 
father, filled with compassion and love, replied: 
" This, my son, was lost and is found again. Let 
us eat and be merry !" 

Heavenly Father, I also have sinned against 
Thee ; I am not worthy to be called thy son ; but 
thy mercies are infinitely more great than my 
faults. Thou desirest not the death of a sinner. 
Thou hast preserved me from thousands of invisible 
dangers, in order that I may this day rejoice at 
my conversion, and offer Thee the homage of a 
heart sanctified by thy grace. And this I can and 
will perform, God of infinite mercy ! Neither 
eternity nor salvation are lost to me, although my 
past life has been vain for the purification of my 
soul. Thou hast allowed another career to open 
itself before me ; and I will again commence a life, 
a life with Christ in God. I will be severe and 
inexorable towards my faults and infirmities, and 
indulgent to others, even if they offend me. I will 
suppress all evil desires in my heart ; and, as often 
as they may assail me, I will fly from solitude, and 
entering again the bustling world, I will hasten to 
accomplish some good act towards my fellow- 
creature. I will make even my sins, and their 
melancholy effects, a blessing to others, by warning 
them of the dangers of temptation, and of the first 



318 THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE BIRTHDAY. 

motives to commit crime, which, under the most 
attractive and seductive form, urge man on his 
career of vice, and drag him into the path of sin. 
I will endeavour to repair the evil that my levity 
or my corruption has produced, either publicly or 
privately, in the bosom of my family or in society. 
I will strive to make amends, even at the sacrifice 
of everything ; for I dare not leave this world, and 
appear before thy tribunal, O my Sovereign 
Judge, with a conscience so heavily laden with 
guilt. And if I can destroy, by my reparation 
and amendment, all the evil I have caused ; then, 
still, thou God of Justice, it will be upon thy 
mercy that I shall depend. I will forthwith con- 
tinue to prove, by my conduct, that the resolution 
I have formed is, at least, both serious and holy. 
Let it not be despised, although, alas ! it only 
rests upon my weakness. Grant me thy pardon 
for my sins, as I will forgive all that have sinned 
or offended against me. Forgive me, O God of 
mercy, forgive me for the sake of Jesus. — Amen. 



DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 



1 St. John, iii. 16. 

" Hereby perceive we the love of God, because he laid down his life 

for us ; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren." 

Sleep ye in peace, ye heroes, deliverers of your 
country ! Your precious blood has not streamed 
forth in vain ; the generous sacrifice of your 
lives has reconquered for a nation its lost dignity. 
Sleep in peace ! — How do I say ? No, you still 
live ! Your ashes rest in peace, but your spirits 
celebrate your triumph. Immortal men, who have 
purchased with your lives the blessings of posterity, 
ye dwell with us in the mansion of our Father, 
the universe of our God ; and there also live your 
works. The last of your deeds was the acquisition 
of that triumphant palm which crowned your 
mortal existence. 

Alas ! in the silence of the house of mourning, 
we shall doubtless hear the sobs and regrets of a 
sister that has to lament the loss of an affectionate 
brother; and the betrothed, the loss of a lover. We 



320 DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 

behold the eyes of mothers dim with weeping, and 
the cheeks of young widows pale with sorrow. 
But, we ask, whence those tears ? Your brothers, 
your lovers, your sons, and your husbands, still 
live ; they have been received into the bosom of 
the God who gave them to you. After a few short, 
fleeting years, you will greet these blessed souls 
on your entrance into a more happy life. To die 
is the fate of humanity : why then lament that the 
hour of their death is arrived ? It would have met 
them equally as certain when upon their bed of 
peace, in the tranquil security of their home, and 
in the arms of their family. Do you believe that, 
without the will of the Almighty, a single soul 
could receive its existence ? Or, do you believe 
that, without the will of Him who governs the 
universe, the flame of a single life could be extin- 
guished ? Weep not, mourn not for those who, 
more worthy to be envied than many that are 
living, died the death of heroes. The termination 
of their career having now arrived, could they dis- 
tinguish it more nobly than by a glorious and 
magnanimous action? 

Our death, equally with our birth, presents 
nothing in itself whence man may assume any 
merit ; both the one and the other result from the 
universal laws of nature. The death of an aged 
man, and the birth of an infant, may be important 



DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 321 

to a family; but the infant and the aged man 
appear and disappear, the same as every other 
living creature. Millions of mortals die without 
their absence from this world being observed, such 
being the inevitable destiny of all men. 

But death ceases to be indifferent in itself as 
soon as it is the concomitant of extraordinary cir- 
cumstances, by either revealing a pusillanimous 
and craven character, or by its displaying a mag- 
nanimous and generous soul. The execution of a 
murderer, the death of a libertine destroyed by 
the excesses of a voluptuous life, the suicide of a 
man reduced by misfortune to the utmost despair, 
all equally fill us with horror and aversion. Their 
departure from this world is the result of their 
vices — of their public or private crimes. Nobody 
can envy their existence : w^ho would wish to die 
such a death? 

But our heart is filled with very different senti- 
ments when we hear of the death of a man who has 
courageously sacrificed himself for his rights, his 
honour, and in the defence of his innocence. The 
grief or commiseration which we suffer for his fate 
is imbued with feelings of admiration. His death is 
the consequence of the nobleness of his sentiments, 
and of the energy of his virtue The example of his 
last moments inspires and animates those that wit- 
ness them ; his last sigh has proclaimed the exalted 



322 DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 

truth, that the virtues thus inculcated by the im- 
mortal spirit are more valuable to us than the mere 
existence of the fragile and perishable body. 

We may, however, trace sometimes the prompt- 
ing motive of such a death to egotistical pride. 
The energetic and virtuous sentiment which is its 
principle, is, no doubt, praiseworthy ; but the world 
may still, perhaps, have gained but little by such 
an example. That which is most difficult to 
accomplish is what requires the greatest strength 
of mind, which is, to sacrifice life for the happiness 
of others. To die with pleasure for others, and 
thus merge our self-love in the love of our race, is 
a devotion which, far from being subjected to the 
suspicion of egotism, merits all the glory of heroic 
devotion. 

Thus we behold civilised nations, as well as bar- 
baric tribes, celebrate and do honour to him who 
dashes amidst the furious billows of the ocean, or 
precipitates himself into the mass of flames, to 
rescue his fellow-creature ; as well as to him who 
exposes his life, and perishes, for the good of his 
country. Far from making this charitable sacri- 
fice of life in the cause of friends, much less of 
strangers, there are few individuals now to be 
found who would show sufficient magnanimity to 
shed their bleed even to save their dearest and 
most intimate relatives ; for such is the degraded 



DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 323 

state of covetous man, that few possess the noble 
courage to sacrifice, even for their relations, or for 
the unfortunate and wretched objects whose suf- 
ferings daily offer themselves to their pity, an 
insignificant portion of their own superfluities, or 
the most trifling share of the numerous comforts 
they regularly and uninterruptedly enjoy. Would, 
then, such selfish mortals, such slaves to their own 
sensual pleasures, be found capable of enduring 
pain and death, with generous enthusiasm, for the 
happiness of their fellow-creatures ? 

If, however, the death suffered for the pro- 
tection of a few mortals, or for the preservation of 
the happiness of endeared relations and friends, is 
the most noble effort of magnanimous virtue, what 
is the death endured for the deliverance of a whole 
country — for thousands of our fellow-countrymen 
— men, women, infants, and aged men, of whom 
only a few may be known to us, and with whom 
we have nothing in common but the mere ties of 
civil society ? — to die, not only for those we love, 
but sometimes even for our enemies : in one word, 
to die for our country ? 

Such devotion is as glorious as the vices of 
cowardice and treason are odious and despicable. 
Such is the contempt in which cowardice is held, 
that it is even the subject of ridicule to children 
and the weaker sex ; and the traitor is as much an 

- y2 



324 DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 

object of horror to those he has not betrayed, as to 
those who have suffered by his treason. Death 
for one's country receives a double meed of appro- 
bation; for the generous foe lauds with enthusiasm 
the patriot who has sacrificed himself. 

Of all the duties man owes to his fellow-mortals, 
this is the most difficult, and consequently the 
most sacred. The word of God commands us to 
perform this duty when it says : " We ought to 
lay down our lives for the brethren." Jesus 
Christ, the divine image of perfected humanity, 
has given us, in his own devotion, a sublime 
example ; for who could equal his exalted charity? 
He died not alone for his fellow-countrymen — 
not alone for a circumscribed country — but for all 
men : his was the death of the Saviour of the 
world. The most generous and magnanimous 
mortals can only follow his steps at an infinite 
distance, even in dying for a whole nation, or for 
the happiness of their posterity. 

He who dies the victim of his duty, in spite of 
the constraint laid upon him, merits our respect. 
And what more sacred duty for man can there 
exist than to contribute to the well-being of his 
contemporaries and posterity? Whoever, there- 
fore, animated by the sentiment of duty, exposes 
himself to the danger of losing his life, or even 
generously devotes himself to death, proves him- 



DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 325 

self to be worthy of his vocation upon earth : 
heaven and earth yield to him the recompense due 
to his magnanimity. His end ennobles his previous 
life, which perhaps has passed in obscurity ; for 
he who knows how to die for the happiness of 
others, cannot be a man corrupted by vice. 
Capable of the most difficult sacrifice, he is sure 
to submit to less painful sacrifices. His heroic 
death is the guarantee of the strength of his soul. 
Perhaps, in former days, he may have had to 
reproach himself with some weakness; perhaps he 
may have neglected his duties in the bosom of a 
peaceful and serene life; but the hour of public 
danger was the hour of his reawakening. He 
assumed his natural dignity, and banished the 
recollection of his failings by the glory of his 
sacrifice. Others were perhaps more studious and 
faithful in the performance of their lighter duties, 
and more useful in moderate responsibilities ; but 
they could not comprehend sacrificing themselves 
for their country — they knew not how to die like 
him. Therefore, it is but true to admit, that this 
great sacrifice to patriotism ennobles a whole 
life hitherto without glory; thus the brilliant 
sunset disperses the recollections of a day ob- 
scured throughout with fog and mist ; and thus 
the Christian, who ends his days with these senti- 
ments, accomplishes all his duties together in the 



326 DEATH FOB OUR COUNTRY. 

same hour; for, according to the instructions of 
our Saviour, devotion for the good of other men is 
the most noble of all duties, the sum and substance 
of the divine laws. 

And as his end sheds glory upon the whole 
course of his existence, it thus becomes the glory 
and salvation of his country. The courage and 
bravery of warriors fallen in battle ennoble equally 
an entire nation ; their graves, the glorious monu* 
ments which decorate the distant fields of battle, 
are the most impregnable ramparts which defend 
their country. Long in after years, when they 
have ceased to exist, their names and their memory 
will contend and struggle with the pride and 
ambition of unjust foes. The most arrogant and 
audacious conqueror will feel himself forced to 
respect a people who have produced amongst 
them such heroes ; a people, inheritors of a glory 
which inspires the hearts of their descendants with 
the fire of enthusiasm at the recollection of their 
magnanimous ancestors. 

The fruits of virtue are immortal like the souls 
which have produced them. Nothing takes place 
in the world, that is great or useful, which does 
not extend its salutary effects upon the most dis- 
tant ages. The magnanimous death of heroes 
remains for ever a blessing for the country ; their 
shades live, as it were, amongst their latest 



DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 327 

descendants, in order to lead them on in the path 
of glory they have traced out for them. 

They have fulfilled their duties towards us. 
Peaceful liberty, and the hope of a renewal of 
public happiness, and of preserving for many 
years the advantages of peace, are the rewards of 
their sacrifice. It is for us, who are still in the 
enjoyment of life, to fulfil, on our part, the duties 
we owe towards the noble men who made their 
blood, their life, and their whole being, the ran- 
som of our glory and honour. What we owe to 
them is not tears of pity, a cold admiration, nor 
the praises pronounced with the most eloquent 
art; but a profound gratitude and acknowledg- 
ment, testified and imprinted in our language and 
actions. Pay homage to them with your super- 
fluity, for it is through their death that you possess 
your wealth and prosperity ; consecrate to them a 
portion of your enjoyments, for it is to their 
heroism that you are indebted for them. 

But, you will ask, how can we give to the dead ? 
This question, however, is not one to be put by 
him whose noble and grateful heart appreciates 
the great sacrifice they have made to their country. 

Honour their memory, not, however, with empty 
words, nor with simple monuments ; time effaces 
inscriptions and destroys stone and marble. But 
direct your observations towards those around you, 



328 DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 

and you will find near you, still surviving, trie wi- 
dows, orphans, sisters, brothers, and descendants of 
those brave men who were so prodigal of their 
blood and life for you. Instead of offering vain 
and pompous honours to the dead, honour their 
blood, which still runs in the veins of the children 
of their family. Accord to them that survive the 
distinctions you owe to their fathers, husbands, 
and brothers, who, covered with wounds and 
fronting death, defended your country, and with it 
the home of your posterity. What you give to 
the most inferior member of their family, you 
offer to those voluntary victims of patriotism. 

Such was the custom of the ancient nations after 
their wars gloriously crowned with success. It 
was thus that each soul was inspired with the love 
of country ; and it was thus that nations became 
great and free, in repulsing the attacks of in- 
vaders. But the gradual growth of weakness, 
the progress of effeminacy and egotism, insensibly 
suppressed and extinguished gratitude; envy 
and calumny vilified all distinguished merit, and 
spared neither the living nor the dead. Faith in 
virtue disappeared altogether from the earth, and 
with it ceased to exist virtue itself, or, at least, it 
became more rare. Indifference to country was 
substituted for the ancient patriotism ; mercenary 
troops were engaged, and all national enthusiasm 



DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 329 

amongst the soldiers became extinguished. There 
were still gradations of rank and station, but there 
was no longer a social tie between the sovereign 
and the subject; the spirit of party banished all 
reallove of country. Thence arose the destruc- 
tion of empires and the ruin of states ; and it 
needed the all-powerful effect of calamity to restore 
to their souls their vigorous constitution and 
temperament. It is in the lap of misery that we 
have been taught lessons of wisdom and virtue : 
will those lessons remain engraved within our 
heart and memory ? 

The same as with an individual man, gratitude 
towards a benefactor is the least equivocal proof of 
nobleness of soul and love of virtue ; so the public 
virtue of a nation is shown with greater brilliancy 
in its gratitude towards its defenders and their 
posterity or nearest kindred. 

And should even this tender sentiment remain 
dormant in the towns, cities, provinces, and the 
country throughout, endeavour, at least, all ye 
fellow-mortals that hear me, to preserve it in the 
bosom of your own family. Even if the world 
itself were to return to a state of barbarity, who 
could prevent you from remaining a Christian? 
Who could prevent you from expressing, by your 
words and actions, that magnanimity of soul to 
which you are inspired by Christianity and patriot- 



330 DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 

ism ? In the effusion of your gratitude could you 
not bring succour, aid, consolation, and council, 
to those families, of whom some members may 
have taken up arms against the enemy, and whom 
despotism surrounds and threatens ? Could you 
not be the protector and support of the orphans, 
widows, and sisters, of those heroes who have 
sacrificed their lives, upon the field of battle, to 
the independence and happiness of their country? 
It is for you, also, that they have marched to 
death ; and it is for your security their blood has 
flowed! 

Happiness still dwells in your home ; but you 
would enjoy neither your fortune, your domestic 
tranquillity, nor the benefits of life, if these brave 
men had not magnanimously ventured their lives 
for you and yours. What would have happened 
if, devoting themselves to the defence of yourself 
and the nation generally, they had been obliged 
to give way to superior force, and fly ? What 
would have been the fate of your family ? And 
now that these brave warriors have sacrificed for 
you their whole existence, would you not be 
returning them what you have received from 
them, if you gave a portion of your property to 
their widows and orphans ? 

" We ought to lay down our lives for the 
brethren," says the apostle. But is not life more 



DEATH FOR OUR COUNTRY. 331 

than nourishment and clothing? Ought we to be 
sparing of these, when others have presented us 
with their blood and life ? 

Just Heaven ! when we have so often known 
that the angel of punishment follows closely all 
individual prevarications as sins against power, 
ought we to fear expiating our errors with sacri- 
fices and devotion ? — No ; for " Hereby perceive 
we the love of God, because he laid down his life 
for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the 
brethren." — Amen. 



THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 



Romans, v. 3. 

" And not only so, but we glory in tribulations also; knowing that 

tribulation worketh patience." 

" My soul sinks beneath the storm of adversity, 
even as the reed bends before the blast of the 
tempest, not to rise again. 

" I have lost all faith in the happiness of life ; 
this depth of night can never be relieved by the 
cheering light of an Aurora ; the serenity of morn 
will no more refreshen my soul. 

" Cruelly struck by the hand of destiny already, 
I anticipate a still more painful future. I have 
already experienced great trials, but I expect to 
suffer still greater pain." 

O thou, who thus deplorest and tremblest so for 
thyself, verily thou art to be pitied ; not because 
great calamity hath visited thee, but because thou 
dreadest greater still. For the dread of evil is the 
greatest of all evils that can befal a man. 



THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 333 

You say there is no consolation for you. And 
has thy religion none ? In this case, thy religion 
must be a poor miserable religion, if it be not 
capable of bringing the fullest comfort in the depth 
of thy woe. No ! faith in Christ hast thou none. 
No ! the love of God is not shed abroad in thy 
heart by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. 
I speak a language which is strange to thee. We 
who have Christ have a consolation which the 
power of all adversities cannot snatch from us. 
We possess a refuge wherein the shafts of Fate 
cannot assail us. And not merely that, but, like 
St. Paul, we say with holy exultation, " We glory 
in tribulations also." Unhappy man ! under- 
standest thou that sentence ? 

As the night with the day, the shadows with 
the light, so do the evil hours in life's current 
alternate with the good, the songs of rejoicing with 
the tears of mourning. But dost thou know what 
is most dangerous to man, and what he can least 
bear. Verily, it is not adversity, but prosperity ! 

Among a thousand mortals there is scarcely 
one who has been able, in seasons good and pros- 
perous, to continue upright and worthy of himself. 
But when Fate storms upon them, their fortitude 
rallies itself, and all stand up magnanimously, and, 
at times, in a manner exciting our wonder. There- 
fore, also, it is said, necessity is the mother of 



334 THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 

heroes, the instructress of the wise. Let me know, 
on the other hand, the hero who has proceeded 
from a life of pleasure and magnificence ; or the 
philosopher who, in the arms of riotous success, 
has remained worthy of the admiration of all 
the world ? Doubtlessly, I have seen many who 
first appeared great and estimable in suffering, 
and who sustained the hardest struggle with 
gigantic fortitude ; but by far many more have I 
beheld to whom it was too difficult a matter to 
endure their good fortune. 

It is by no means an uncommon thing to see 
poor and virtuous families, who hardly know how 
to maintain themselves from one day to another. 
With pious submission to the will of God, they 
put up with their sad destiny. And though it 
often fail them in the necessary conveniences of life, 
often in clothing and food, they continue stead- 
fast and courageous. Their mutual love comforts 
them for the scorn to which they are exposed : 
labour and hunger season their scanty and cheap 
meal; trifles can procure them the greatest plea- 
sure. Tender compassion towards other sufferers 
fills their breast. In their utmost need they are, 
through the agency of virtue and love, happy 
beings. Suddenly their adverse destiny changes ; 
a large, unexpected fortune falls to them, it may 
be by distant inheritance; The hitherto miserable 



THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 335 

cabin is exchanged for the handsome, commodious 
mansion ; the tattered, worn-out raiment for better 
attire. Now friends crowd in, on all sides, with 
congratulations and compliments. The family, 
formerly gratified by the least thing, now makes 
higher pretensions. They talk of connections 
suitable to their station ; they speak with disdain 
of those whose disdain they once received. They 
imagine it to be impossible to continue, with pro- 
priety, the olden intimacy with the former friends 
of their poverty; pride gets gradually in the 
ascendant ; and self-will, caprice, and ingratitude, 
follow in the train. The family, once fortunate 
from its harmony, sunders widely ; each is dissatis- 
fied with the other ; and, eventually, each goes 
his own way. Dissipation destroys the health 
which once, amid toil and temperance, was in a 
blooming condition. Cares, unknown formerly, 
embitter the enjoyments of what promised to be a 
happy state. Each individual feels this deeply, 
and sighs : I was more cheerful once when I had 
less : that fortune was our misfortune ! Pitiable 
beings ! they are right ; for they could endure 
adversity easier than prosperity. 

An orphan daughter, again, is seen weeping by 
the coffin of her mother. Sunk upon her knees, 
she breathes to the glorified spirit of the deceased 
the vows of virtue, to remain true to the holy 



336 THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 

instructions which, she had once received from 
those pious lips. And she keeps those vows. An 
orphan and helpless, the bereaved maiden goes into 
the service of strangers, and bears, with touching 
meekness, the rigour and caprice of her mistress. 
With tears she earns her bread. But custom 
makes her lot more endurable ; her modesty moves, 
her ingenuousness pleases and gains confidence. 
She is poor but virtuous : and this virtue strews 
many a flower of joy upon her solitary and often 
rugged way : she is happy even in her destitution. 
She is not forsaken, for she has God in her heart : 
and the spirit of her mother seems to hover over 
her with benedictions. Suddenly her adverse 
destiny changes. Her innocence and beauty win 
her the heart of a wealthy man. As his wife she, 
the poor servant of strangers, now becomes the 
mistress over others. Dress and luxury excite her 
vanity. In the stream of showy amusements her 
pristine simplicity and humility disappear. Ad- 
mired, flattered, by men of pleasure, she finds 
the temperate devotion of her husband by no 
means proportioned to the claims of her charms. 
She finds the depraved morals of the great world 
soon less offensive — soon quite natural. Her 
modesty yields before seductive examples. Her 
virtue takes wing; discord, jealousy, and strife, 
attend the ruptured marriage. The house, for- 



THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 337 

merly the abode of joy, becomes a scene of discord 
and misery. Prodigality brings care; falsehood 
brings embarrassment ; deceit brings remorse. The 
spirit of her mother smiles no more with blessings ; 
it is changed into a frightful spectre. Poor thing ! 
she knew how to bear her misfortune, but not her 
prosperity ! 

A man of irreproachable character, again, had 
a craving after fame and honour. He applied all 
his energies to overcome the obstacles to their 
attainment. Bv vigour and frankness of character 
he rendered himself worthy of the most distin- 
guished honours ; but they were not bestowed 
upon him. Adversity persecuted him : his outward 
circumstances were fluctuating. Further, his 
warmly beloved wife, or a dear child, dies ; all 
his pretensions to the pleasures of life were buried 
with them. The thought of death, the startling 
view of the nothingness of everything earthly, 
reclaimed him from all ambitious desires. He 
only wished to be good; he did not aspire to be 
great. Indifferent towards that which once enrap- 
tured him, he sought no external worth, but 
spiritual merit. This very worth, and the diffidence, 
goodness, and complaisance, allied therewith, made 
him the favourite of all. TTherefore all voices 
spake loudly for him. But he is raised from his ob- 
scurity, promoted from honour to honour. He sees 



338 THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 

all his circumstances suddenly changed. He stands 
amongst the great, himself a magnate of his 
country. His good fortune flatters him. The old 
ambition is nourished above measure. He looks 
down with pride upon the obscurity from which 
he arose. People compliment his deserts; he 
finds, in the voices of sycophants, nothing but 
truth; and he that will not hearken to them 
appears to him as a rival and an opponent. He 
grows more imperious, more domineering, more 
haughty, more violent. It oppresses him to be 
obliged to receive his equals. His pride repels ; 
his arrogance makes him the object of secret ridi- 
cule and sarcasm. His friends grow cold. He is 
surrounded by disguised foes. Disquietude is his 
lot. His false steps are numbered. The passion 
which rules and tortures him adds to their list. 
The cup is full. Despised and hated, he is dashed 
from the eminence into well-merited disgrace. 
Alas! he was no longer strong enough to bear his 
good fortune. In adversity he had found his real 
happiness. 

How many heroes, how many kings, were 
praise-worthy so long as they stood in conflict with 
adverse destiny ! How touching was their mag- 
nanimity, their contempt of death ; how admirable 
their cheerfulness in the moment of their greatest 
need, which seemed to' subdue Fate itself, and to 



THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 339 

compel Fortune to obey them! Their valour 
against the foe, their humanity towards the con- 
quered, won them the love of all nations ! And 
Fortune crowned their efforts, and led them from 
victory to victory, from triumph to triumph. But 
then vanished their former moderation. The 
mighty sword became their iron sceptre; the discreet 
spirit of self-defence grew into lust of conquest ; 
firmness towards the foe changed into revenge. 
They who had won so much believed themselves 
invincible, with the world delivered up to them. 
They were the devastators of the world, and 
desired to stand like gods ; for, sporting with for- 
tune, and the lives of millions of human beings, 
they felt dissatisfied with being accounted merely 
men. But the curse of the world rose up against 
them, and cut them off. The eternal renown, after 
which they lusted, redounded to their eternal 
shame. In adversity they had become great, — 
heroes and philosophers; misfortune was their 
good fortune. But these poor, weak creatures 
had not thriven in their prosperity; for then, 
unhappily, they had descended to the rank of 
culprits and fools ! 

With injustice it is said, that suffering and 
adversity best test the worth of man. No ; pros- 
perity is the real touchstone of the worthiness of an 
individual. Wherefore, we ought to receive the 

z 2 



340 THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 

days of necessity and mourning as real blessings 
from the hand of God. He who is not strong 
enough to bear a great evil, how will he be strong 
enough for great success ? 

Thus, in the midst of our calamities and most 
painful bereavements, we will gratefully reverence 
the love of God, and say with St. Paul, "¥e glory 
in tribulations also." 

The adversities which befal us only place us in the 
true relation, in which we ought to be, to this world ; 
they only teach us, in fact, to prize aright those 
things wherein we take the greatest pleasure. 
While we lived on in unruffled repose, without 
knowing sorrow, our conception of life was a sen- 
suously pleasant, but false and delusive dream. 
This dream must be dispelled from us ; for we are 
not mere carnal, animal creatures; we have a 
higher destination. The beast knows nothing of 
death; but we see ours beforehand, and know 
that we are elected to eternity. 

Adversity first places us in the right relation 
with respect to the world, and teaches us what it 
is worth. Only he who has lost the greater part 
of his property by the conflagration of fire, the 
distress of an inundation, or the disasters of war, 
or by negligence and fraud, knows how little is to 
be built upon riches and affluence; knows how 
improperly we act in fixing our heart upon the 



THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 341 

possession of earthly goods, and in expecting our 
entire happiness from them. The human mind is 
spirit; it ought to be independent of what is 
earthly, and make its happiness independent of all 
that is perishable and transitory. Whosoever 
cannot, even when all is snatched from him that he 
has toilingly and honestly acquired, in the midst of 
these losses, be of a cheerful mind; whosoever, after 
he has worn silk clothing, cannot smilingly change 
it for the coarsest of clothing; whosoever can- 
not live with meekness in high dignities, and with 
a noble pride in the deepest lowliness ; whosoever 
cannot espouse poverty with composure, permit the 
scoffing judgments of the multitude to be passed 
upon him with indifference ; in that man's heart 
all is not sound and strong : he has not the great- 
ness of the true Christian. He must be purified 
and exalted by adversity, otherwise he belongs 
still to the class of lost men. 

For the calamities which befal us only impart to 
us the proper measure of patience and fortitude, and 
the consciousness of our original dignity. That is 
lost in a life of luxury. We know virtue w r ell, 
but are too comfortable to exercise it. Whatever 
we do is done, more or less, with petty by- views 
of gain of divers kinds. But anon comes tribula- 
tion, and breaks the slavish chain with which we 
are so bound to the earth, and which we have 



342 THE TEST OF ADVERSITY. 

depended upon and served, and that alone. Tribu- 
lation makes us free, and leads us back to the true 
liberty of Christianity. Assuredly the body has 
to submit to sacrifices, but the soul fortifies itself 
against the storms of fortune, and learns to despise 
the world and its delusions. 

For myself, I glory in tribulations also ! They 
are holy, warning angels that Thou, my God, 
sendest forth to call back the erring and lost 
creature to thyself. They come to detach me from 
what is earthly, wherein my soul lies captive and 
entangled. And I will learn to understand the 
language of these thy messengers which Thou 
sendest me. In the greatness of my griefs, above 
all earthly loss, will I acknowledge how deeply I 
have been immersed in sensuality, have degene- 
rated from my primeval dignity, have been 
removed from Thee, my God. And even may 
my wounds burn and bleed, and mine eyes dissolve 
in tears ; still, still, Lord, my God, Thou mer- 
ciful, eternal Friend of my soul, still will I praise 
Thee and thy love, and glory in tribulations also ! 
— Amen. 






THE EXD OF THE WORLD. 



St. Matthew, xxiv. 36. 

" But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of 

heaven, but my Father only." 

Absorbed in silent meditation, I love to survey 
and reflect upon the prodigious variety of the 
works of God, even when I discover them in 
parts I least suspected. What an endless di- 
versity of land does the plough of the husband- 
man turn up ! Here, we behold light sand ; 
there, heavy clay ; and yonder, a black and fertile 
soil, formed of the mould of decomposed plants and 
animals. In one country, we find immense rocks 
of almost imperishable granite ; in another moun- 
tains of slate ; and again, in other parts, extensive 
layers of chalk and sandstone ! Why should I 
pass by, insensible to these phenomena of nature ? 
In whatever works the Creator has produced, even 
in those of the most simple and trivial nature, 
nothing is indifferent, nothing is to be treated 



344 THE END OF THE WORLD. 

with contempt. The power and grandeur of the 
Supreme Being becomes everywhere manifest to 
the eyes of the wise man, who recognises in the 
different strata of rock, stone, and earth of which 
the globe is formed, a portion of the history of 
that world of which he himself is only a transitory 
inhabitant. 

Most certain it is, that it is not by accident that 
this globe is formed by such a variety of masses 
into one solid and harmonic whole ; for not even 
the blade of grass nor the grain of dust is the work 
of mere accident. It is not the less evident that 
the earth was not produced suddenly and at once 
in its present shape; for we find, in all parts of the 
world, evident and unerring traces of its gradual 
formation and successive revolutions. The vestiges 
discovered of the human race do not, it is true, 
extend beyond the period of six thousand years; 
but how many thousands of years may have 
passed away before the creation of man — a period 
during which the earth was of irregular, wild, and 
uninhabitable form ! Moses, it is true, says : " In 
the beginning God created the heaven and earth ;" 
but when was this beginning ? Who can dive into 
the depth and obscurity of past eternity ? What 
are millions of centuries in the eyes of the Eternal ? 
— Alas, scarcely a fleeting moment ! 

" And the earth was without form and void, 55 



THE END OF THE WORLD. 345 

says Moses, in his history of the Creation. But 
how long had this state continued ? Many 
thousands of years may, perhaps, have passed 
away before the elements, beginning to ferment* 
became divided — before the light separated from 
the darkness, and the water from the dry land ; 
before the plants grew out of the fertile earth; 
and before the insects, and birds, and animals of 
all kinds could find shelter and nourishment. 

What was this globe before the will of God 
produced man to inhabit it? How long had it 
already existed at the period when a mortal 
appeared for the first time to admire the miracles, 
and prostrated himself in adoration before the 
Author of so much glory and magnificence ? 

If we study and contemplate the globe as it 
appears before us at the present day, if we learn 
and appreciate the results of the efforts made in 
penetrating through its surface, we shall discover, 
that this vast globe, of which the nucleus must 
remain concealed from us for ever, is, as it were, 
enveloped in various coats or layers of earth and 
rock, formed gradually, one after the other. 
Hundreds and thousands of years perhaps may 
elapse before one of these layers becomes hard- 
ened, and a second and a third become formed. 

The traveller discovers with astonishment, on 
the summit of the highest mountains of the earth, 



346 THE END OF THE WORLD. 

and imprisoned in the hardest rocks, muscles and 
remains of animals which in our times are only to 
be found in the sea or in a very distant and com- 
pletely opposite part of the globe, and other 
remains of animals which belong to no species 
actually existing. Discoveries equally astonishing 
are made in the bosom of the earth, where, in 
layers of chalk, many hundred fathoms below the 
surface and completely petrified, repose the re- 
mains of animals, totally unknown at the present 
day, and belonging to an anterior age, far beyond 
our means of calculation. 

Thus, at a period which the memory of man has 
not within control, our globe was inhabited by 
living beings of another species. An unknown 
power destroyed all this order of things, before 
one mortal of the human race was born ; for not 
the slightest vestige of human remains has ever 
been found amongst the petrifactions of that ancient 
world. 

Many revolutions have evidently taken place of 
this nature: for in the most deep and ancient of 
these masses of stone and rock, are found a very 
different species of animals to those already 
described, and consequently of a more recent 
existence. Thus a -second and a third world 
have flourished and been inhabited, and subse- 
quently destroyed and buried beneath a vast layer 



THE END OP THE WORLD. 347 

of chalk and clay. In those layers which more 
closely approach the surface of the globe, and 
which are, consequently, the latest that have been 
formed, a completely new order of creation is dis- 
covered. Besides the fossils of animals, are found 
also the petrifactions of wood and plants, of which 
several species are still in existence at the present 
day. 

But from these more recently formed strata pro- 
ceed fresh miracles and enigmas. We behold in 
them the graves of animals and plants, which at 
the present time are only indigenous in other parts 
of the world. Animals accustomed to live in the 
hottest climates lie buried in the bosom of the 
earth, the surface of which is in our days covered 
with ice and snow, which rarely melt ; and palm- 
trees lie prostrate where in the present day they 
are only known by the pen of the historian and the 
pencil of the artist. What force could have thus 
displaced the globe, that its former position towards 
the sun has changed so wonderfully? Have, then, 
burning deserts formerly existed, where now we 
only behold fields of eternal ice? When have 
these revolutions in nature taken place? History 
makes no mention of them ; for no man was then 
born to bear witness to them, or hand down to us 
a memorial of them. 

The last revolution in the earth is mentioned to 



348 THE END OF THE WORLD. 

us by Moses, and is described also by the most 
ancient traditions of the people. This was the 
destruction of the greatest portion of the human 
race by the Deluge. But the continuance of this 
extraordinary inundation was but for a short time ; 
everything was not destroyed, and the surface of 
the earth very soon recovered itself, and soon flou- 
rished and became again numerously inhabited. 
This dreadful occurrence took place about three 
thousand eight hundred years since. There pro- 
bably perished then, or by other partial inundations, 
the gigantic species of animals, whose bones have 
been discovered, lying not very deeply buried 
beneath the earth, by men of the present day. 

However this may be, a holy shudder seizes my 
whole frame when I think on these primitive ages 
and the destinies of this globe, before it served for 
the habitation of the human race. O God, mira- 
culous and powerful Being, how mysterious are 
Thy works ! What was in existence before I was 
created ? and what shall exist when I am no more? 
All changes, and all dissolves itself in the ocean of 
time ; but O God, Thou alone remainest eternally 
what Thou hast always been in all ages ; in Thee 
there is not a shadow of variation ! 

If, in unknown ages, this world with its inha- 
bitants, to me equally unknown, has at different 
periods suffered destructive revolutions, I must 



THE END OF THE WORLD. 349 

conclude, with fear and dread, that it is possible it 
will, sooner or later, undergo another fearful scene 
of universal destruction. This possibility becomes 
probability, nay certainty, when I reflect that all 
things created are subject to decay, and nothing 
remains constant in the same state. Jesus Christ 
has prophesied this ruin of the world, and the end 
of the world is a point of faith amongst all people. 

Yes, my trembling soul, acknowledge it with 
awe and dread, before the majesty of the Almighty; 
this earth has not existed since eternity, neither 
will it continue to exist to eternity. One day will 
arrive which shall be the last of this whole globe, 
and each minute that passes hastens on that day. 
God knows that day on which our whole system of 
life shall be dissolved, and marked for it its 
station in the rank of ages when he cheated the 
universe. He has determined the epoch when the 
course of the stars shall become obstructed and 
stopped, and perhaps a comet in its passage may 
annihilate the habitation of the human race. May 
not, perhaps, the four small planets discovered a 
few years since, by astronomers, in our solar 
system, and which in company together move 
round the sun, be the remains of a ruined world ? 
Do they not predict to us the fate of that we now 
inhabit ? 

Thus, then, these seas, these lakes, and these 



350 THE END OF THE WORLD. 

rivers, will evaporate and become dispersed ! 
These mountains, reaching to the very clouds 
above, will totter on their bases, and fall together ! 
These valleys, these hills, which still are decorated 
by the hand of Spring with its variegated garlands 
of blooming flowers, shall vanish, and henceforth 
be as dust in the air ! These innumerable smiling 
villages, with all their happy inhabitants — these 
cities, with their gorgeous palaces and choice works 
of art and science— will disappear and pass away, 
without leaving a single trace behind ! Alas ! day 
of nameless terror, which shall bring the end of all 
things, thou art summoned by God, and thy time 
is already chosen ! 

Already,' many centuries since, this day of uni- 
versal destruction was generally considered to be 
close at hand; but as yet it has not arrived. Many 
even now imagine it to be approaching quickly; 
but they will also deceive themselves. They pre- 
tend to read the proximity of the world's dissolution 
at one moment in the obscure descriptions of the 
prophets of the Old Testament, and at the next, in 
the enigmatical delineations of the Revelation of 
St. John. And what is the result of this ? These 
people, by a vain curiosity, give themselves up to 
superstitious speculations, equally frivolous and 
presumptuous. They excite their imagination 
with absurd visions, and their, vanity is flattered 



THE END OF THE WORLD. 351 

when their mad suppositions and foolish conjectures 
gain some credit and influence. Without any 
other revelations than their own chimerical dreams, 
and without any superior knowledge to that of any 
other mortal, they pretend to unveil the hidden 
secrets of Omniscience and the mysteries of the 
Divine mind. Beware of these false prophets and 
fanatics, who mimic the Scriptures, and assume 
the appearance of true believers of religion and 
humanity. Do not attach yourselves to them, but 
to our Divine Master, and to the true word of the 
eternal Son of God; for whilst they announce, 
conjecture, or calculate with proud confidence, the 
epoch of the reign of a thousand years, of the end 
of the world, and of the last day of judgment, 
Jesus, the Master of us all, avowed to his disciples : 
" But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no, 
not the angels of heaven, but my Father only." 

This dread of the last day excited by fanaticism, 
is therefore not only vain, but also highly culpable, 
because it places more faith in the folly of credulous 
mortals than in the assurances of the Saviour of 
men. 

And why, then, feel so much terror at the 
thought of the end of the world ? Is the destruc- 
tion of the earth more to me than death ? And is 
not death a change I must undergo, whether the 
world be destroyed or continue to exist ? What 



352 THE END OF THE WORLD. 

does it concern my silent and motionless heart, or 
my body changed into dust, whether the sun 
shines over them or not ? And even if the world 
should become ruins, will not my immortal spirit 
still survive it ? 

Ambitious fanaticism or superstitious credulity 
usually takes advantage of the appearance of 
comets in the heavens, in order to give weight to 
their predictions. As long as men were unac- 
quainted with the nature of these flaming bodies 
of light, they regarded them as indications of the 
anger of God; and, imagining they perceived in 
the heavens a rod of fire, they held it for the 
announcement of war, pestilence, or famine, — 
although these evils already desolated the earth 
around, without being preceded by these comets. 

The observations, however, which have con- 
tinued to be made during several centuries, have 
taught us that these comets are celestial bodies the 
same as the stars; and since, therefore, it has 
become now usual to announce with confidence, 
beforehand, the return of these comets, the 
unfounded dread, hitherto so universally held, 
that they were only the messengers of evil, has 
vanished. According to the observations hitherto 
made by men of science, many hundreds of comets 
may, in their elliptical course, approach more or 
less the sphere of action of our sun, or even the 



THE END OF THE WORLD. 353 

orbit of our globe. Many of these comets present 
themselves only at such a distance as to be quite 
invisible to the naked eye ; but if it is considered 
with what wisdom the respective movements of 
these celestial bodies are directed, with what 
order and regularity they pursue and cross each 
other in their progress, without clashing or 
confusion; and when it is remembered what 
interminable and incalculable spaces form the 
course of these worlds, it is by no means pro- 
bable that, even in thousands of years, a comet 
can approach sufficiently near to the earth to 
destroy it. If we imagine to ourselves a few 
grains of dust floating in the rays of the sun, in 
an empty space of some thousands of miles, and 
moving in regular rows and circles, we shall 
then have an idea of the proportion between the 
space of the celestial bodies and that of the firma- 
ment in which the hand of the Almighty directs 
their course ; and this representation will show the 
improbability, even during a long series of cen- 
turies, of the appearance of any comet to threaten 
our globe. 

But, however vain may be the dread of the 
approaching end of the world, the thought that 
the world will be one day destroyed does not 
less turn the mind to elevated meditation. The 
certainty of this event -is handed down to us in the 



354 THE END OF THE WORLD. 

declarations of the word of God, and in the monu- 
ments of the terrific revolutions with which the 
globe has been already visited. 

But even should this world not be destroyed 
until after the lapse of centuries or thousands of 
years, as already has happened, the idea of such 
an event remains not the less terrible and awful 
to the human soul. After the expiration of a 
hundred years, nothing more will remain in this 
world, either of myself or of the greater portion of 
my contemporaries ; and after a dream perhaps of a 
hundred thousand years, nothing more will remain 
visible of this earth itself. Then will have va- 
nished, country, people, cities, and all the pro- 
ductions of human industry and human art ; and 
all will have disappeared and have been swept 
away, and swallowed in one universal tomb, as if 
nothing thereof had ever existed. Wherefore, 
then, ye rulers of the world, is your ambition to 
found new and immeasurable empires ? Alas ! 
your works are overwhelmed, and fresh mountains 
raise their heads over the unknown ruins of your 
vast empires. Wherefore, then, are all your 
efforts to leave your glory as an inheritance for 
posterity ? Alas ! this posterity no longer exists, 
and the memory of your actions has perished ; you 
remain as if you had never been ! Perhaps, 
after millions of years, new generations of the 



THE END OF THE WORLD. 355 

human race will wander over this earth ; this 
globe, grown young again by a new creation, will 
not suspect that a race of ancestors has lived, 
thought, acted, and suffered before them, on the 
same spot, but of which age no vestiges remain, 
except perhaps a few remains of petrified bones 
discovered in the bosom of the rocks. 

Everything that bears the name terrestrial, will 
only have one fixed term and end. But Thou, O 
God, who, from Thy throne, dost behold and 
order the course of these great changes — Thou 
alone art eternal and immutable ! All that is born 
of dust will pass away, and become changed ; only 
the power which animates the body in various 
forms will remain : the body itself will disappear, 
but the spirit which dwells within it will continue 
to live. 

Away from me, hence, vain pride, perishable 
glory, and pomp of our day ! Who will know, in 
a few thousand years, whether I have ever existed, 
and what I have done whilst on earth ? Let ray 
soul no longer attach itself to the things of the 
world, but only to what exists eternally. 

To Thee, Father of the world, Principle of life, 
Light of light, almighty and all-good Ruler of 
the spiritual world, shall my soul attach itself. 
I will no longer think of earthly glory, if I only 
have value in Thy eyes, I will no longer wish to 



356 THE END OF THE WORLD. 

be surrounded with riches ; for what do I derive 
from this brilliant dust? Only as my spirit may 
receive dignity by Thy doctrine, O my heavenly 
Instructor, Jesus, so will I remain : this alone 
shall be my eternal riches. 

All passes away — O my soul, forget it not! — all 
except God and His love — all except the souls 
sanctified by virtue and purified by the grace of 
the Redeemer! — Amen. 



THE END. 



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